


you knock me out, i fall apart

by blackalien



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:16:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6317986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackalien/pseuds/blackalien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The falling out, the drama, the violins playing in the background…” Ahsoka lays another card on the table. “He gets it all from Anakin.”</p><p>Obi-Wan glances over at Luke, then back down to the cookbook. “You learn to ignore it.”</p><p>( rather: non-linear moments in the lives of the skywalker clan. )</p><p>( aka: the one where anakin was a sith lord for literally an hour, everyone is alive, and they're actually happy )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. literally, everyone needs to take a chill pill (especially you, luke)

**Author's Note:**

> look. look, listen. listen here, my friend. do not try and tell me han, ahsoka and obi-wan aren't part of the skywalker fam. i will fight you.

**one.**

Ahsoka snarls, swords held out defensively. “I should’ve known this would happen,” she growls, not taking her eyes off of her opponent. “There were so many warnings… of _course_ you’d fall to the dark side. All of the weak ones do.”

Hidden behind the darkness of his cloak, her adversary laughs menacingly. “You call me weak? I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been!”

Ahsoka scoffs. “That’s what _every_ Sith Lord says—right before they lose!”

“I will never lose. The Force is on my side!” He points his saber at her. “Prepare to die, Jedi!” With those words, he lunges at her, slashing at her middle. She executes an elegant backflip, landing just out of his reach. But he is his father’s son, and continues to pursue her. She dodges and blocks every attack, but is too slow to guard herself against the slice to her legs. Letting out a cry of agony, Ahsoka falls to her knees. Her eyes snap up to her attacker as he holds his saber to her throat. “Tell me where she is, and your death will be quick.”

She smirks at him. “Make it as slow as you want, _Sith._ You’ll never find the princess.”

“You Jedi are strong,” he commends her. “But are you strong enough to survive _this?_ ” He pulls his arm back, bringing it down towards her shoulders. At the last second, she jumps, leaping above the saber, and rips it from his grasp as she flips over his head. “ _Hey!_ ”

She lands delicately on her toes, lightly dropping to her heels. Holstering one of her swords, she admires her new weapon with a smug grin. “Nice sword.”

Agitation writes itself across the Sith Lord’s face, and he stomps his foot impatiently. “Jedi don’t _steal_. It’s not fair!”

Ahsoka raises an eye-marking at him. “I'm not a Jedi. And what kind of Jedi would _play fair_ in a fight against a Sit— _eep!”_ She squeals loudly, jumping several inches into the air as two fingers dig into her sides. She whirls around, huffing at the amused face of her former Master. “ _Anakin!”_ She shoves him, causing him to stumble back as he guffaws.

“What kind of Jedi doesn’t notice someone sneaking up on them,” he laughs, before looking to her assailant. “Luke, are you _losing?_ ”

Luke pulls his hood down, pouting at his dad. “Soka cheated!”

“I did not!”

“Uh huh! She stole my ’saber, Daddy!”

Anakin puts on his Very Serious Face, giving Ahsoka an admonishing look. “You can’t steal his ’saber, Ahsoka. That’s not the Jedi w— wait, is he a _Sith?_ ”

Ahsoka winces. “…He called dibs?”

Leia chooses that moment to enter, and Anakin blinks in surprise. She wears one of her fancier dresses, with a mini tiara on her head. Ahsoka has no idea where the tiara came from, but she’s willing to bet Anakin bought it for her. “Luke, are you losing?”

“Why is everyone picking on meeee,” Luke whines.

Leia rolls her eyes sharply. She’s only four, and a genuinely kind girl, but when she does things like that, it always _stings._ (Her mother’s genes. Definitely her mother’s.) “Did you forget what we talked about?”

“What are you—oh, yeah.” With a battle cry, he launches himself at Ahsoka, taking her by surprise. The two of them tumble to the ground, Ahsoka wrapping her arms around him to shield him from the worst of the fall. The landing is softer than it should’ve been, and she realizes Anakin must’ve cushioned it with the Force. _Still healing,_ she remembers. _Right._ She lands on her back, Luke held protectively to her stomach. He laughs victoriously, wiggling out of her arms, and takes a seat on her tummy. “I win! Now, the princess is my prisoner!”

Ahsoka looks over to Leia, betrayal etched in her expression. “You conspired with the enemy? After I put my life on the line to _protect you?_ ”

Leia shrugs. “The Force is neutral, and so am I. I just wanted to see if that would work on you.” She tips her head curiously at the Togruta. “How did you even survive the war, Soka?”

Ahsoka thinks about it, choosing not to be offended by the blatant insult. “This is usually the part where Rex decides to stop punishing me for running ahead, and save me.”

“Daddy says you should never wait for anyone to save you,” Leia states firmly. After a slight pause, she adds, “Unless you’re waiting on him.”

“Exactly,” Anakin agrees, smiling adoringly at his daughter. “Unfortunately, Ahsoka’s never been too good at waiting.”

“Or taking orders, or _following_ orders, or depending on others…” Ahsoka lists off.

Anakin looks over at her, his grin widening. “Have we had this conversation before, Snips,” he teases.

“Once or twice.” Ahsoka glares playfully at him. “And I could never wait on you. Waiting on you would get me killed!”

“I have better timing than that!”

“Are you sure?” She turns her gaze to the four year old on her stomach. “And how long do you plan on sitting on me?”

Luke blinks innocently at her. “Just for a few more seconds.”

Ahsoka’s eyes narrow suspiciously at him. “Why?”

“So Leia can attack Daddy.”

“Wh— _hey!”_ Anakin cries out as the makeshift lightsaber (made of wood and metal, totally child proof) pierces his side. He dramatically falls to one knee, a hand covering his wound. “Leia, how could you?”

Leia smiles sweetly at him. “Steps to taking over the world,” she recites. “One, become royalty. Two, make lots of friends in high places. Three, be an icon for the good guys. Four, conspire with the bad guys. Five, take down the leaders of the good _and_ the bad guys. Six, pick a throne.”

Anakin chokes, and Ahsoka suddenly feels the need to cry. _Force,_ she swears, giving her former Master a look that she hopes accurately conveys her displeasure. _Skyguy_ _, you raised another_ Palpatine _. Good job!_

Anakin throws a glare at her, as if to say,  _It’s not_ my _fault! It’s her mother’s blood, I swear._

“Wait,” Luke interrupts, oblivious to the silent conversation taking place. “Does that mean you were about to kill me, Leia?”

Leia simply raises her sabers — when did she get _two?_ — and charges at him, only to be pulled back by Anakin. “You won’t kill my son!” He lifts the squealing girl into the air, and brings his own body softly crashing to the ground with her in his arms. Luke tries to get to his father’s side, but Ahsoka holds him back, viciously tickling him.

“Sometimes,” a woman’s voice speaks from the direction of the door, “I like to delude myself into thinking I only have _two_ children. Then I remember the others.”

Anakin and Ahsoka turn to each other. “She’s talking about _you!_ ”

* * *

**two.**

Obi-Wan has no idea how he let himself get talked into this. He’s sure that he was adamantly against this whole thing not too long ago. Taking in a domesticated animal is one thing. It isn’t a _wise_ thing, but it’s something he could accept. But this? Taking in a creature that is historically dangerous (and not even _remotely_ endangered, this time) and likely to kill them all?

Frankly, it’s a stupid decision.

He explicitly told Anakin that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the creature, and he would not hesitate to disembowel it if it attacked him. Anakin had just smirked and told him that he wouldn’t dare.

Obi-Wan briefly wonders how his apprentice has such  _nerve._ Then he remembers two sets of bright eyes and tugging hands, and, “ _Please, Uncle Ben, please?”_ Letting out a long suffering sigh, Obi-Wan relaxes on the couch, Leia curled against him on one side, and the wolf humming itself to sleep on the other.

* * *

**three.**

“You know,” Ahsoka drawls, swiping food off of Anakin’s plate. She does it on purpose, because she _knows_ how much his food means to him. She’s just a bully. “Eventually, you’re going to have to tell your kids that you’re fucking their uncle.”

All the Jedi training in the world couldn’t have kept Anakin from choking on his food. Tears rush to his eyes, and his body shakes from the force of his coughs. Ahsoka pats him on the back, rather unhelpfully, and watches with an expression of amusement and repentance. “First of all,” he wheezes. “ _Language._ Force, what if Obi-Wan heard you? Do you know how much trouble we would be in?”

“I’m twenty-five years old.”

“Do you think he _cares?_ And second,” he continues, pulling his food out of her reach. “What are you even talking about? Do you know how weird that sounded?”

Ahsoka sends him a no-nonsense stare. “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. They think Obi-Wan’s that really cool uncle who comes around every day because he loves them so much. In reality, he comes around every day because he loves your—”

“ _Okay,_ thank you,” he interrupts with wide eyes. This is why Obi-Wan wants to wash her mouth out with soap, and Anakin is only kind of sure that it’s his fault. “I’m so glad to know your senses are as sharp as ever.”

“I was going to say bed,” Ahsoka says innocently, fooling absolutely _no one._ “And I don’t need my senses to know what you two get up to when I’m not around.”

He blanches. For a horrifying second, he thinks that she could feel his pleasure through their bond, and he’s considering running himself through his lightsaber. Slicing off his own head would be better than having to deal the ramifications of _that_ particular situation. In fact, he’s thinking about cutting his head off regardless, if only to forget this earth shattering conversation. He might actually literally die from embarrassment, anyway.

“You two act like a married couple all the time,” Ahsoka continues, oblivious to the destruction she’s wrought on his psyche. “I’ve seen this coming since the second I saw you two. No Jedi have ever stood as close as you two do. _We_ don’t even stand that close, and I’m attached to your hip. Plus, you couldn’t hide a relationship if you really wanted to. How do you think I found out about Padmé? You couldn’t be more obvious, if you _tried._ ”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so attacked in my entire life. And I’m a war veteran.”

“Which brings me back to my original point,” Ahsoka surmises. “Your children are eventually going to figure out that Obi-Wan isn’t your brother, _at all_ , and they’ll need extensive therapy as they try to wrap their minds around your weird as hell relationship.”

Anakin stares. He doesn’t know who raised this child (other than him, Padmé, and Obi-Wan, _they cannot be blamed for this_ ), but they did a terrible job. She turned out _horrible._ “My kids are nine years old,” he starts. “They know nothing about sex— _you_ should know nothing about sex, there is a _reason_ I avoided giving you the Talk.”

“Unlike you, Padmé and Obi-Wan are actually good people, and they made sure I was informed after my fifteenth birthday.”

Anakin is going to have a Serious Talk with them when this is over, because what kind of unit are they, if they don’t even consult him on when to give the kids important talks? He should’ve been a part of that discussion, and _holy shit,_ fifteen is so _young_. She was just a _baby._ And, “ _Second,_ I never explicitly called him Uncle Ben. They did that to themselves.”

“Don’t blame your bad parenting on those children, Skyguy, please.”

“And when my kids _do_ find out about what Obi-Wan and I are getting up to— not that we are—”

“Oh, _please._ ”

“We will clearly and patiently explain things to them,” he decides. “And pay for any therapy they may need.” He smiles, proud of his foolproof plan. And she says he’s a bad parent.

Ahsoka nods. “And I’m going to sit back and laugh when you fail.”

He honestly deserves so much better than this.

* * *

**four.**

“Oh my _gooosh,_ ” Luke whines, dragging out the last word. It goes on for at least five seconds as he slumps himself over the kitchen table, taking his head in his hands. Ahsoka glances up briefly, before looking back down to the card game she’s playing with Leia. Obi-Wan and Padmé don’t even startle at the sound of his cry, only continue to talk over the cookbook held between them.

Han, on the other hand — not yet used to the melodrama that is the Skywalker family — has a mini-fucking heart attack. His eyes widen to the size of saucers, and he stares at his friend in panic. His eyes swivel across the room to the other inhabitants. “What—what is this? Is this—is this a teenage thing? Hormones?”

“No,” Padmé responds distractedly. “That’s his father’s side.”

“His… what?”

“The falling out, the drama, the violins playing in the background…” Ahsoka lays another card on the table. “He gets it all from Anakin.”

Obi-Wan glances over at Luke, then back down to the cookbook. “You learn to ignore it.”

* * *

**five.**

Obi-Wan can count on one hand the amount of times he’s walked into Anakin’s house to the sound of silence. He doesn’t even _need_ hands to count how many times it’s happened in the past eighteen months. With two erratic twins, Anakin, _and_ Ahsoka always running around (as if the latter two aren’t _enough_ ), the home is always filled with laughter, and maybe even a little bit of crying. It is never quiet, and certainly never _this_ quiet.

Obi-Wan would be concerned, if he couldn’t feel the absolute tranquility coming from the occupants. He detects five Force signatures, from Leia’s soft presence, up to Anakin’s barely tame one. He releases tension he hadn’t been aware of, and wanders into the living room. He’d like to say that he’s surprised, and maybe a bit agitated at the scene that he walks into. Really, he is neither.

There are four bodies piled together on the floor, all sound asleep. Anakin lies on his back, his right arm thrown over his eyes, while his left arm acts as Ahsoka’s pillow. She’s curled up on his side, unusually blissful, even though her lightsabers are nowhere to be found. Luke lies in the slit between Anakin and Ahsoka’s bodies, hands fisted in Ahsoka’s shirt, with his back pressed to Anakin’s side. Leia sleeps soundly on her father’s torso, her head pillowed on his chest and fingers curled around the fabric of his tunic. A slight glance to the right shows Padmé resting on the couch, her legs pulled up onto the seat. Even in sleep, she looks absolutely exhausted.

And cold. They all look cold.

With a weary sigh, Obi-Wan walks past the group, and towards the bedrooms. He pulls the comforter off of Anakin’s bed, then goes to grab the one off of Luke’s. He heads back into the living one, and drapes the larger of the two blankets over the group on the floor. It’s a bit difficult to situate it. Too high, and Luke gets suffocated; too low, and everything above Ahsoka’s knees is left exposed. He sets down the blanket meant for Padmé, and carefully repositions Luke. The young boy curls into his hold momentarily, and quickly reattaches himself to Ahsoka once he’s set down again. The girls shift at the feeling of the quilt being placed over them. Leia coos, turning her head several times before she settles down again, and Ahsoka stirs momentarily, before moving closer to Anakin.

Once they’re properly covered, he takes Luke’s blanket and places it over Padmé. Unlike the others, she actually wakes up. “Obi-Wan,” she mutters, lifting her head. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary to wake you.” He keeps his voice low, lest he wake the others. The twins take after Anakin when it comes to sleep: they’re either incredibly light sleepers, or tragically deep, depending on the day. There is no middle ground with them, and it’s nothing more than a pain in Obi-Wan’s hide. “It’s been a while since you’ve rested like this.”

“Why do you think we’re doing it,” she laughs quietly. “Anakin and Ahsoka wore the kids out — and themselves, apparently. They all just fell asleep like that, and I didn’t want to wake them. We don’t have anything to do today, so…”

He shakes his head. “A wise decision. Anakin is insufferable on his best days. Even more so when he’s tired.”

Padmé grins. “That’s what I said.” She pulls herself up, creating room on the couch. “You’re already here. You might as well join us.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin mumbles from the floor, not nearly as asleep as Obi-Wan assumed. Of course not. “There are some battles you just can’t win.”

“But—”

“Obi-Wan, _go to sleep._ ”

Given Anakin’s words, doubled with Padmé’s stern look, Obi-Wan knows when a fight is lost. He takes a seat on the couch, placing Padmé’s ankles in his lap. Just two years ago, he would’ve never done such a thing. But he’d done and seen far worse since the day Anakin announced her pregnancy. They’re comfortable enough with each other to pay little attention to such contact, though it would be seen as indecent with any other woman. With a smug smile, Padmé lets her head fall back again, eyes slipping shut. In less than two minutes, she’s asleep. A reach into Anakin’s consciousness shows that he’s fallen back to sleep as well.

And Obi-Wan _swears_ he doesn’t fall asleep. The war might not be a concern anymore, but there are still Separatists, and still people who would wish to do harm to this family. _Someone_ has to stay on watch, or else the family will be completely vulnerable. If anyone attacks, they’re all done for, and he can’t let that happen. He keeps his lightsaber at his side, and he blinks. Really, that’s all he does.

He just doesn't open his eyes for a while.

* * *

**six.**

There is a reason Padmé doesn’t tell Anakin when things go wrong. And they do — often. She was once a queen, and is now a senator; she knows, more than anyone, how dangerous politics can be. And ever since getting involved with Anakin Skywalker, she’s found herself in trouble, more often than not. On top of that, they're still rebuilding the Senate, trying to figure out who to trust and who to incarcerate. Ever since the fall of Palpatine all of those years ago, her safety has been more relative than ever. And she’s accepted the dangerous part of her job. Unlike Anakin and Ahsoka, she doesn’t _live for it,_ but she’s — okay with it.

Her family, however, is not.

She can accept needing a bodyguard for every meeting and negotiation she goes to. It’s only smart to take precautions. And now that they’re finally past the point where Anakin and/or Ahsoka accompanies her, she feels less suffocated, and more willing to take a few hits. With Anakin around, a shot coming anywhere _near her_ is likely to result in someone’s untimely demise. And while Ahsoka is marginally better, she can still manage to land someone in a bacta tank for weeks on end, if she puts her mind to it. (Usually, she does.)

Obi-Wan is much calmer, thankfully. The part of the Jedi Code about not overreacting to every little thing actually registered in his mind, she thinks, because she’s yet to see him lose his head over anything that didn’t border on certain death. And even then, he's been rather level-headed. She’s seen him get angry, but not the way that Anakin tends to. And Obi-Wan’s anger fades in a matter of minutes, which is more than can be said for the others. As far as she can tell, Han is of a similar mindset. His calm demeanor, she assumes, has less to do with Jedi training, and a lot more to do with him being a genuinely sane person.

The twins… take after their father.

So, really, she isn’t terribly surprised when she wakes up in the medbay after an attack, to find four vaguely murderous Force-sensitives, an exasperated Obi-Wan, and a mildly impressed Han Solo standing around the room. “I’m fine,” she swears, before they can say anything. “The bacta did its job. Honestly, I’m fine.”

Leia clasps her hands behind her back and smiles, nice and innocent. “We know you are, Mother.”

“Your assailant,” Obi-Wan sighs, “isn’t.”

She immediately looks to Anakin and Ahsoka, who suddenly find the ceiling to be very interesting. “What did you do?” It’s not like she’s all that concerned for the man; he _did_ try to kill her. But he was still once a respected member of the Senate, and if they killed him, _there will be so much paperwork._

“Nothing he won’t recover from,” Anakin promises.

Ahsoka smirks a little. “In time.”

She turns her gaze to Luke. Her sweet, innocent, actual ball of sunshine child, who has never once disappointed her. Her more dramatic but decidedly less brutal offspring. One of the three people in this room she trusts to think twice before committing a serious crime. The only one who _cares_ how much paperwork she’ll have to fill out if they kill a fellow senator in her defense. “What did they do?”

“Taught him a lesson,” her favorite son declares, all too proud of himself. “We can’t have him thinking it’s okay to mess with the Skywalker clan. Someone might try to follow his example.”

Anakin, Ahsoka, and Han are such terrible influences. She should've just let Luke spend more time with Yoda when he was a child. He'd be extremely cryptic, and an even bigger headache than his father, but at least he wouldn't be a criminal.

“Just tell me he isn’t dead,” she begs.

Obi-Wan’s brows furrow. “Honestly, Padmé, I’m offended. I would never let them so recklessly kill someone.”

She lets out a relieved sigh, because _of co_ —

“Unless he deserves it.”

Force, help her.


	2. in which luke and leia are so loved, it shouldn't be legal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of feelings, Luke is president of the Leia Skywalker fanclub (and is a lot deeper than he has any right to be), and Han and Chewie should've never gotten involved with this family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: descriptions of violence. i wouldn't call it graphic, but it's just a step above vague.
> 
> also, it should be known that i was listening to "dear theodosia" while i was writing this, and that's mainly why it turned out so... feel. i definitely recommend listening to it while you read, because it sets the mood for seven, sort of eight, and twelve, but that's your prerogative!
> 
> ONE LAST THING: i probably should've mentioned this before, but i headcanon padmé as lowkey force-sensitive?? not nearly as strong as anakin, but she's got it.
> 
> anyway. continue on.

**seven.**

Ahsoka damn near breaks the door when she enters the hospital. She doesn’t have the patience to wait for it to slide open, and it seems to be deliberately going slower than usual. She gets dirty looks from the doctors that pass by, but doesn’t pay them any mind. She’s limping slightly, a blaster bolt wound making its presence known on her thigh. Her entire body aches, thanks to that damn Rodian, but she pushes through the pain.

Why is that she can’t leave for _two days_ without something happening?

She’d been weeding out the remaining Separatists on Lothal when she’d gotten Anakin’s rather frantic transmission. She had to talk him down from a panic attack, all while boarding her ship, trying to dodge blaster fire, and saving a group of Force-sensitives from being taken. It certainly hadn’t been an easy escape, but it worked out in the end. For the most part.

She finally makes it Padmé’s room, and forces herself to breathe. Closing her eyes, she uses to Force to feel for the occupants in the room. She can sense four Force signatures; she reaches for the two she recognizes, and waits. After a moment, she feels Anakin reach back. Then, weakly, Padmé.

Opening her eyes, she takes another step forward. The door slides open in front of her, and she hesitantly steps into the room. Anakin looks up at her, a baby swaddled in blue cradled in his arms, and smiles. “Hey, Snips.” His voice is quieter than usual, and she doesn’t know if it’s for the sake of the babies, or Padmé, who lies exhausted on the bed, with another newborn in her arms. “You missed the fun part.”

“Looks like it.” The baby in Padmé’s arms lets out a cry, and Ahsoka looks to the woman. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just experienced the worst fifteen hours of my life.” Ahsoka lets out a quiet laugh, and Padmé shifts, making herself more comfortable on the bed. “Do you want to meet the twins?”

And just like that, Ahsoka _doubts._ She shakes her head, taking a step back. “No, I shouldn’t…”

She shouldn’t be here. She has no place here. She’s not Anakin’s Padawan anymore. And after what she did to him — after what she told herself she _had_ to do — she has no place in his life, at all. She’s been working on cutting their bond, but hasn’t had any success. _Yet._ She’s going to do it; she has to. Anakin has a life now, with a wife and kids. It’s the life she knows he’s always wanted, and he finally _has it._ He has a full life, and there’s no room left; she has no right to be here. She doesn’t know where she belongs anymore, but she’s sure it isn’t here.

“I should go,” she says, sounding a lot more confident than she feels. “You’re tired, and…” She doesn’t know what else to say. Anakin and Padmé are giving her matching looks of disbelief, and she knows it’s time to leave.

She turns on her heel, prepared to walk out the door, only to find herself trapped as Obi-Wan rushes in like a man possessed. “Is she alright? Is the child okay?”

“Children,” Padmé corrects with a smile. “And we’re all fine.”

Obi-Wan relaxes, allowing himself to breathe again. Ahsoka wonders if he was more worried about Padmé or Anakin. “I’m glad to hear that.” He turns his gaze to Anakin. “Leave it to you to have _twins._ ”

Anakin grins at him. “Go big or go home, right?”

Padmé shakes her head in amusement. “Come in,” she says to Obi-Wan, who stands with Ahsoka at the door. “Ahsoka was just about to hold Luke.”

She was?

“I was?”

“You were,” Anakin confirms. “Obi-Wan?”

The man nods, and ushers Ahsoka over to the hospital bed. By the time she’s seated next to Padmé’s legs, she’s come up with forty-two different ways that she can get out of this, but hasn’t gone through with a single one. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest, and she’s long since stopped breathing by the time Anakin places his son in her arms. He adjusts her hold on the infant, then steps back with a soft smile.

Ahsoka is stiff as a board for a moment. She’s held babies before, sure; but none of them have ever been human. None of them have ever been just _hours_ old. None of them have been Anakin’s. And holding this child — Luke — she has this irrational fear that she’s going to break him, and ruin Anakin’s life more than she already has. She stares at Luke’s blanket for a long second, before hesitantly looking at his face. His eyes are closed in blissful slumber, and he wears the most serene expression she’s ever seen on anyone. She looks at him, and thinks, _Force,_ she’d give the galaxy to him. She’s only held him for three seconds, and she’s already prepared to lay down her life for him.

Slowly, he opens his eyes, and her heart stops.

Anakin lefts out a surprised huff. “Unbelievable,” he mutters in amazement. “I’ve been holding the kid for an hour, and _you’re_ the first person he ever sees.”

And she really needs him to stop talking, because her chest feels weird, and she doesn’t know what any of it means. But she can’t take her eyes off of this child. A slow smile graces her lips, and she lets out a soft laugh when Luke coos at her, his eyes closing once again. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” she vows quietly, even though that hadn’t been her intention a moment ago. Just a few minutes ago, she’d been trying to get out of this hospital, and off of this _planet_ , as quickly as possible.

But now she’s looked at this child, and she can’t imagine ever leaving. Her smile fades, and she silently swears to protect Luke, no matter what the cost. They came so close to losing his father _and_ his mother, and that—that can’t ever happen. Not to Luke, or to his sister. (Who, she notes with a glance up, has Obi-Wan wrapped around her finger _already._ )

She looks at Anakin, who watches her and Obi-Wan with an expression she doesn’t quite recognize, and to Padmé, who is finally falling asleep, as if she knows that her children are in the safest place they could possibly be, and she’s content. She looks at them, finally happy and with all that they want, and realizes belatedly that this is her home, too. This is her family, and she’s never going to let anything happen to them.

“I’m never going anywhere,” she swears to Luke, and pretends that she doesn’t see Anakin’s smile.

* * *

**eight.**

Luke’s family is really strong.

He’s always known this, of course. He loves listening to his dad’s stories of how he and Ben and Soka saved lives, and how they beat all the bad guys. He loves it when Papa Ben contributes to the story, adding details that his dad misses, or purposely neglects to mention. He’s seen Soka pick fights with a lot of scary people, and she _always_ wins. And he’s seen his mom reduce men twice her size to rubble with just a glance. They’re the strongest people in the entire _galaxy,_ and anyone who says otherwise is wrong.

In his opinion, though, Leia is the strongest person _ever._

She takes after their mom, he notes. She holds herself like royalty, and expects the world to treat her as nothing less. Even at twelve years old, she demands respect — not with words, but with her presence. She doesn’t fight the way that Dad, and Ben, and Soka do, but he sort of pities anyone who _does_ try to fight her. He knows their family will come to her defense, but he also knows she’ll probably physically and verbally rip the person to shreds before they even get the chance.

He knows that, one day, she’ll bend the world in her image, bringing them all to their knees. She’ll conquer the entire galaxy, if she so pleases, and they’ll be helpless to stop her. And, he thinks, who would want to? His dad is a disaster, his mom and Obi-Wan are the anchors, and Ahsoka is a storm, but Leia? Leia is all of that, and more. She’s the catastrophe, and she’s the calm. She’s the calamity, and she’s the orchestrator. There isn’t a force in the universe that could stop her reign, and he’s content to wait for the day when everyone else realizes that.

His sister is the coolest, strongest person in the galaxy, and he’s proud to be able to call her that. But she’s also human. And, like everyone else, she has fears.

When she crawls into his bed, just after 0200 hours, he wakes up and automatically knows — it’s storming outside. He’ll never know why, but his sister — his strong sister, who _embodies_ a storm and bosses everyone around — is deathly afraid of thunderstorms.

Her body shakes as she curls into him, and he frowns. Instead of pretending to be asleep, like he knows she wants him to, he tugs the cover up over their heads. It’s dark under the cover, but at least they can’t see out of the window, anymore. He rubs his hands up and down her arms, feeling the miniscule bumps that have risen on her skin. “Do you want to go to Mom and Dads’ room?”

Leia shakes her head. “I’m fine, Luke.”

“I’m not stupid, Leia.” There’s a loud clap of thunder, and Leia squeaks, burrowing further into him. He wraps his arms around her, allowing her to take whatever comfort she can find in him.

“You’re not,” his twin agrees. “You just let everyone think you are.”

The words would sting, if they weren’t true. He smiles, even though she can’t see it. “People see what they want to,” he says. “And everyone needs comedic relief.”

Leia hums, and he feels her fingers clench around the fabric of his shirt. It’s a habit she hasn’t grown out of yet. Frankly, Luke thinks it’s adorable. “People say mean things about you.”

“I know.”

“They shouldn’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know you don’t.” The lightning comes first. Fifteen counts later, the thunder sounds. Her grip tightens. “I care.”

Luke loves her for that. He doesn’t tell his parents or his big sister about the things that people say. He pretends he doesn’t hear, and pretends his sunny disposition is real. But Leia isn’t that kind of girl. She hears everything that people say, and she takes it to heart. She doesn’t just get angry; she gets _even._ She delivers punishment in a special sort of way, and Luke has no idea what he’s done to deserve such a good sister. “What they say doesn’t matter.” He shrugs. “I’d rather they say bad stuff about me than you guys.”

Really, Luke’s _not_ an idiot. He knows what his dad has done in the past. Even though everyone tries to hide it, he’s not so helpless as to not know how to do a bit of research. He knows that his dad has done some terrible things. He knows that Papa Ben has loved and lost more people than he’d ever tell them about. He knows that Ahsoka has been through some truly _terrifying_ things, and swallows them like a pill, never to be mentioned again. He knows that his mother has suffered more than anyone her age should have, and that there are more than a few people who would love to do her harm. He knows that Leia’s bossy attitude gets her in trouble sometimes, and there are people who look at her and think of how _easy_ it’d be to break her.

And Luke loves his family. He loves them way too much to let anyone look into their lives, and pull out something that’ll _hurt._ So if he can somehow take the brunt of that criticism — from the light teasing, to the brutal slurs — he will, in a heartbeat. Besides, “I’m not helpless, Leia. If it ever goes beyond teasing—”

“It won’t.”

He doesn’t respond at first. When Leia takes on that tone, it’s always best to take a step back. When she speaks like that, it’s a _covenant._ It’s a bulletproof promise, and anything that opposes it is bound to crash and burn, _viciously._ But she isn’t always right. Like now. She can’t protect him from everything; she can’t protect him from the things that people say. People will talk, and it may go beyond that. But he can’t just say that. Not without upsetting her. So he stays quiet for a while, listening to the hard pitter patter of rain on his window.

When Leia’s grip on his shirt listens, he speaks again. “I may not be like you, or like Dad, but I’m not helpless, sis. Whatever happens, I’ll be okay.”

His sister is silent for a few minutes, and he waits. Leia always has the last say, and he doubts this will be any different. He counts the moments, and finds himself falling to sleep. He’s on the brink of consciousness, when her voice reaches his ears again. “I won’t be.”

“Hm?”

“If something happens to you,” she clarifies. “I won’t be okay. You’re the only brother I have, Luke. You’re my other half. If something happens to you, I’ll probably lose my mind.”

He stays silent. It’s late and it’s storming, he notes. Later, she’ll regret saying all of this.

“We’re a package deal,” she says. “If anyone hurts you—”

“I’m sure you’ll make them regret it,” he says, if only to assuage her fears. It’s too late to be having such a heavy conversation, and he definitely shouldn’t be having it now, and not with Leia. If there’s anyone more protective than their parents, it’s her.

She pulls back just enough to show him her smile — thin lipped, sharp as a whip and downright _bloodthirsty._ No words need to be said. Luke lets out a laugh, the thunder fading to background noise, and the sound of Leia’s laughter is all that he needed to put his mind at ease.

* * *

**nine.**

Anakin doesn’t—he doesn’t know why they’re here.

When Obi-Wan left, Anakin thought it’d be forever. He thought that his former Master would be gone just long enough for him to do what needed to be done, and when he came back, Anakin would finish the job. He thought that by the time Obi-Wan came back, he would be so unrecognizable that his old Master would _want_ to kill him; it would be that much easier for Anakin to do what needed to be done.

But Obi-Wan came back early. And he came back with _her._

“You shouldn’t be here, Ahsoka,” Anakin says. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, but it doesn’t feel like he makes much of a difference. His entire mouth feels dry, all of a sudden. He wonders why that is. He felt fine just a second ago. (Lies, lies, _lies._ ) “You said—you weren’t even in this _system_ yesterday.”

“Obi-Wan took a detour.” Her lightsabers — new lightsabers, he notices — dangle from her hips, and he watches as she reaches for them. She isn’t looking at him; no, her eyes are on Palpatine, her entire body turned to face him. Anakin’s new Master looks displeased, to say the least, but unworried, all the same. “We had a feeling.”

“Oh?” Palpatine’s lips crack into a cold smile; Anakin used to mistake that as warmth, and he no longer understands how. “And what was that feeling, my dear?”

“That Anakin would do something stupid, of course,” Ahsoka answers easily. She ignites her lightsabers, spreading her feet as she holds them out. “Should’ve known you were Darth Creepus.”

Obi-Wan, who stands in front of Anakin, doesn’t look to the girl, but Anakin knows he wants to. “Ahsoka,” he chides. “Do not provoke the Sith Lord.”

Ahsoka scoffs, with only half the amusement she usually holds.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Anakin repeats, because he doesn’t—he doesn’t know what’s going on here. They shouldn’t have known. They shouldn’t have had the time to meet up, discuss this, and come back here. They shouldn’t be here, _he doesn’t want to kill them._ He just wants to save Padmé and his child. He doesn’t want anyone to die, but if they have to—

“Anakin, by boy,” Palpatine calls. “Don’t you see? This is the Force, giving you a head start. Kill them, and you’ll be well on your way.”

Anakin— hesitates.

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenches, and he grabs his own lightsaber. The blue light shoots from the hilt, and he eases into the Soresu stance, lightsaber and fingers pointing at Anakin. “I cannot let you do this, Anakin,” he says. “You’ve already taken one life. You will not take another.”

Anakin’s eyes flicker to Dooku’s body, then back up to his opponent. He’s already a Sith; doesn’t Obi-Wan see that? It’s too late for salvation. And even if it weren’t, this is Anakin’s only shot. It’s the only way he can get his happy ending. It’s the only way Padmé lives.

He can’t pass this up.

Something in Obi-Wan’s eyes crumbles when Anakin slips into his preferred fighting position, and the younger man tries to ignore it. It doesn’t matter what Obi-Wan is feeling right now. Anakin—he has to do this. He flicks his gaze towards his former Padawan, mind already forming a plan to take them both out. Except Ahsoka isn’t facing him.

She lunges at Palpatine, and Anakin stops breathing.

He doesn’t have the time to tell her to stop; the same time she attacks, so does Obi-Wan. Anakin has to turn his full attention to him. If he takes his eyes off of the man for a second, he’ll be the one lying next to Dooku.

Obi-Wan unleashes a flurry of attacks, and Anakin just barely manages to keep up. It’s only because he knows Obi-Wan better than he knows himself that he manages to block any of them. He slips under Obi-Wan’s arm, switching to the offensive. He attacks relentlessly, backing Obi-Wan up. The older man blocks the blow Anakin aims at his head, his arms shaking slightly. Anakin sends a hard kick to Obi-Wan’s sternum, and the man flies back. He flips through the air, twisting as he lands. As if planned, Ahsoka flips back at the same time, and the two switch places.

Anakin tries to swallow the mixed emotions he feels at seeing her. “You shouldn’t have left, Ahsoka,” he mutters softly as they circle each other. Obi-Wan holds his own against Sidious, but Anakin is sure he’ll be dead soon.

Ahsoka’s hands tighten around her weapons, and she glares at him. “This wasn’t me, Anakin,” she bites out. “You know why I left—why I had to leave. And even if you didn’t, you can’t blame this on me.”

“And why can’t I?” He twirls his saber expertly, then points it at her. “Don’t you see what I’ve become?”

“I do,” Ahsoka says, her voice slightly softer. She charges at him, and her size grants her the speed she needs to catch him off guard. He jumps back just in time, but her saber is slashing at his arms again before he can get his footing. He only barely manages to stop her. His fist connects with her stomach, and he hits her hard enough to send her stumbling back. It may not be the time, but he can’t help but marvel at the warrior she’s become. This is a version of Ahsoka he doesn’t see often; this is Ahsoka at her most carnivorous.

This is Ahsoka, overcome with bloodlust.

Her lips pull back into a snarl, and Anakin realizes he has to take this seriously. His apprentice may very well kill him. That excites him, just as much as it terrifies him. “I see what you’ve let yourself become,” Ahsoka repeats. “And that’s why I’m here. To stop you from becoming worse.”

“There’s no saving me,” he roars as he darts towards her. She blocks his blow, and uses the Force to shove him back. “I have to do this, Ahsoka! I have to save Padmé! I have to save the Empire!”

“What _empire?_ ” She ducks beneath his next attack, a slash across her neck, and sends a kick straight up to his chin. Blood fills his mouth as his teeth dig into his tongue, and he spits it out as she back flips out of range. A tumultuous rage fills him, and he feels the Force swell around him, as if motivating him to finish this.

He’s going to fucking _kill her._

He charges at her with a loud cry, and she can’t get out of the way quick enough. His saber drags from her left shoulder down to her right hip, and she screams as the heat overwhelms her. And he—he revels in it. She recovers quicker than he’d like, and he has to wonder when her threshold for pain got so high. “There is no empire, Anakin!” She screams. “It’s just you, and Palpatine. The Jedi _will_ stop you!”

“The Jedi are evil!” Why doesn’t she see that? “They’ve been using us, Ahsoka. We were just _pawns._ ” She has to know that. After what they did to her—

She moves before he can even form his next sentence, disappearing with a speed he didn’t know she possessed. It doesn’t even register that she’s gone until he feels a familiar burning pain stemming from his shoulder, and spreading like wildfire. And he screams, louder than he ever has before.

His arm is gone. His arm is gone, and she _cut it off._

“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka whispers, tears in her eyes and hands shaking at her sides. “But we can’t let you do this, Anakin. We love you too much to let you do this.”

“I hate you,” he sneers, realizing it with utter clarity. What he feels for this girl — this child he used to love so much, _he would’ve died for her_ — is nothing less than a pure and perfect hatred. “ _I fucking hate you!_ ”

He uses his remaining arm to sloppily attack her, and Ahsoka flinches. She sidesteps the attack, and Obi-Wan is the one to block it. Once again, they’ve switched opponents. “You will not kill her, Anakin,” the older man shouts. Distantly, Anakin hears Ahsoka shout at Palpatine, but they’re getting farther and farther away. “You care too much for her to kill her.”

“I hate her! I hate _you!_ ” Why did he bring her here? Why would he let her come here? Didn’t he realize what would happen? “How could you do this to me, Obi-Wan? _How could you?_ ”

Obi-Wan Force-shoves him back, and Anakin crashes painfully against the wall. “You can’t be this person, Anakin. You will _not_ be this person.”

“I have to,” Anakin says through gritted teeth. “I have to save Padmé. I have to save everyone.”

“You cannot cleanse the world in fire,” Obi-Wan stresses. “You’ll only find yourself burning with it. There are other ways to save her, Anakin. You don’t have to do this. You can’t do this.”

“I’ve thought of everything, Obi-Wan! This is the only way!”

“ _It is not!_ We will figure something out,” Obi-Wan vows, and it—it sounds absolute. As if he’d rather die than let anything happen to Padmé. “But none of that can happen if you don’t stop this.” When Anakin doesn’t respond, Obi-Wan continues. “Do you think Padmé wants this? Do you think she’ll be _happy_ to find out you’ve found the Dark Side?”

“It won’t matter if she’s dead!”

“Then we won’t let her die.” Obi-Wan holds out a hand. Anakin only stares at it. “Stop this, Anakin. Help us take down Palpatine, and we’ll save Padmé. We will not let her die. But you have to trust us.”

He can’t. He _can’t._

But Obi-Wan is persistent, if nothing else, and he refuses to give up on his former Padawan. “Anakin, if you don’t come with me, Palpatine will kill Ahsoka. And the rest of us won’t live much longer. Do you truly believe he’ll let your wife live?”

He will — he promised _._ Even as Anakin thinks that, he finds his faith in Palpatine wavering. “She’s going to die, Obi-Wan. I’ve seen it.”

“The future can change, Anakin. _We_ can change it,” Obi-Wan says. “We can change our future. But only if you let us.”

Anakin stares at his hand for a long moment. Can he trust Obi-Wan? Ahsoka? How does he know they won’t betray him, like the Jedi have?

“If I’ve ever let you down, Anakin, I am sorry,” Obi-Wan says, sounding more sincere than he ever has. “But I will not let you down now. We will save your family. But only if you let us.”

In the distance, Ahsoka releases a bloodcurdling scream. And just like that, any anger he previously felt is ripped away, and he makes his decision.

* * *

**ten.**

“It’s come to my attention that we probably need to talk.”

Ahsoka looks up at Padmé with wide eyes. “If this is about the thing with Senator Chuchi—”

“It’s not,” Padmé reassures her. “It’s about Obi-Wan.”

Not quite understanding, Ahsoka’s eyes widen even further with horror. “I never had a thing with _Obi-Wan_ , what the fuck?”

“Not that kind of thing — wait, you had A Thing with Senator Chuchi?”

Ahsoka feels blood rushing to her face, and clears her throat. “Is this about my conversation with Anakin?”

Padmé gives her a look that tells her, in no uncertain terms, that they aren’t done talking about this, but she drops it. “About Obi-Wan sharing our bed? Yes.”

And — oh. “That wasn’t my business,” Ahsoka admits, a bit embarrassed at her own behavior. “I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Curling up in her chair, Padmé lets out a scoff. “It’s Anakin; you’re never going to hold your tongue around him. And that’s good. This is your home, too, Ahsoka. If you want to know something, you’re allowed to ask.”

Ahsoka nods slowly. She knows Padmé is sincere, but that doesn’t make this any less weird. She’s never been uncomfortable around the woman, but it’s different with her than it is with Anakin. With him, Ahsoka is free to be as crude and blunt as she wants. With Padmé and Obi-Wan, it just feels _wrong._ But she _is_ curious. “So you three… are you all…?”

“Together?” Ahsoka nods a bit unsurely, and Padmé smiles. “Yes. Obi-Wan is still getting used to it, but he’s just as much a part of this as Anakin and I.”

Ahsoka thought it was something like that. While she wasn’t sure about the relationship between the three, she figured Padmé at least knew. Anakin is a human disaster, but he isn’t dumb enough to cheat on Padmé. He wouldn’t do that if he _wanted_ to. “And you and Obi-Wan. You’re both…?”

Padmé shrugs. “We’re figuring it out.”

“And the kids? Are you going to tell them?”

Padmé’s smile fades, and she lets out a sigh. “Eventually. Once we have a better handle on everything, and we’ve all figured out exactly what we want, we’ll tell them. Anything else?”

Ahsoka thinks it over for a few seconds, then shakes her head. “I figured it was something like that,” she says. “I just wanted to be sure. Thanks for clearing that up for me, Padmé.”

The senator hums warmly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Is this the part where you threaten me in Anakin’s defense,” she teases.

Ahsoka scoffs. “I don’t pick fights I can’t win, Padmé. Plus, all three of you can take care of yourselves. I’m sure that if anyone gets hurt, they can get their revenge for themselves.”

Padmé grins, motherly and proud. “We _did_ raise you right.”

* * *

**eleven.**

Han takes one look at Ahsoka, and kind of wishes the guard would put the shield back up. The normally friendly and snappy Togruta looks nothing short of _pissed the fuck off_ , and Han has a feeling he’s going to be on the receiving end of that anger. He almost always is. And, usually, it’s warranted. But this time—

“It wasn’t our fault,” he, his best friend Chewie, and the twins hurriedly say, before she can tear into them.

“Not your fault that half of Mandalore is in the middle of a civil war,” Ahsoka asks dryly, “or not your fault that you got thrown in jail?”

Wow, just _start_ with the tough questions. “The second one,” Chewie answers, though it sounds sort of like a question.

“The first one was an accident,” Luke adds. “We did _not_ mean to do that.”

Ahsoka looks like she’s going to punch them, and Han seriously wouldn’t put it past her. He’s known her for about six years now, and has it on good authority that she will fight literally any and everyone. “Just be glad I didn’t call the adults,” she says. (It’s always funny when she calls them that, considering she’s nearing thirty-two, and he’s reaching twenty. They’re both adults, but neither of them would put themselves in the same category as Padmé Amidala Skywalker.) “Anakin would kill you.”

Han knows for a _fact_ that that line is directed at him. Anakin is far too whipped to ever lay a hand on one of his kids, and he actually _likes_ Chewie. Han, however, is likely to get kicked out and jettisoned out of his own damn spaceship.

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” Leia — the only one of them with sense — says, stepping out of their cell. Han is the last one to step out, because he still isn’t sure he’s not about to get punched yet. “For bailing us out, and for not telling Mom and Dads.”

“Bailing you out was the easy part,” Ahsoka sighs. “It’s keeping this from them that’s going to be hard.”

“It’ll be fine,” Luke the Optimist exclaims. “We’ve gotten this far, right?”

“Kid,” Han mutters. “Don’t jinx this.”

Leia throws him a look. “Luke is right. Everything will be fine. And Daddy never has to find out.”

At first, Han has no idea why she calls Anakin that. Luke still sometimes says mommy and daddy, but never Leia. Then, as he watches the devious smile curl her lips, it all makes sense. Oh, she’s _good._ No one can make Anakin Skywalker melt like his daughter, and she knows _just_ how to push his buttons.

They all stare at the girl in awe for a moment, a bit of pride in Luke’s gaze, before Chewie remarks, “I’m starting to see why she never gets in trouble.”

And, honestly — _same._

* * *

**twelve.**

Obi-Wan could’ve never imagined this.

Considering Anakin’s history with younglings, he doesn’t think he’s out of line for once assuming that the man would never have kids. And even though Obi-Wan’s known about his not-so-secret wife for a long time, he never thought they would find themselves in this position: Padmé in a hospital bed, cradling a newborn in her lap, Anakin rocking a little boy in his arms, and Ahsoka standing at the door in front of him. A look around the room tells him that he isn’t the only one caught by how surreal it all is.

Padmé beckons him inside, and he mindlessly obeys. He idly wonders when he became so submissive to the woman, but doesn’t give it much thought. He sets a bewildered Ahsoka down on the bed, smiling as Anakin puts his newborn in her arms. Obi-Wan knows Ahsoka has been intentionally avoiding them all ever since she left the Order, even more so since Palpatine’s fall, but he thinks— no, he _knows_ she won’t be leaving again any time soon. She’ll make a wonderful sister, or aunt, or whatever she chooses to be.

“Hey,” Padmé calls, drawing his attention. “You have someone you need to meet, too.” She gestures him over, and smiles when he wordlessly rounds the bed. “Here. Obi-Wan, this is Leia. Leia, this is your…” She looks up at him then, and Obi-Wan is suddenly considering leaving. Because Padmé is the only one in the galaxy who knows how he feels about Anakin, and that’s made everything _complicated_. Especially now, when Anakin is a father and a husband, and he’s— “Obi-Wan,” Padmé finishes, smiling down at her daughter. “This is our Obi-Wan.”

 _Force,_ it shouldn’t feel so good to hear that.

He takes the baby she hands him, cradling the newborn like the precious gem she is. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her for a second; he’s too afraid that the second he looks away, something will be happen to her, and the world will fall apart. And it’s utterly _ridiculous_ that he’s so enamored with this child, after holding her for mere seconds. But she stirs in his arms, and he almost smiles.

She’s absolutely beautiful, this Leia child, and Obi-Wan feels a rush of unbidden protectiveness and devotion.

He couldn’t protect Anakin from his childhood. He couldn’t protect Ahsoka from all that she went through; even if it was her job, it still sometimes haunts him, the things she had to go through. But with Leia and her brother (who’s so effortlessly bringing Ahsoka to tears), Obi-Wan has a chance. He can shield them from everyone and everything that means them harm.

These children will be safe and happy. He swears it, and Force so help him, if anyone _tries_ to jeopardize their safety, he’ll become a Sith Lord himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...is it obvious that I'm Leia Skywalker trash??? No???? Hm. Strange. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented/kudo'd/bookmarked/subscribed to this story! I honestly wasn't expecting that kind of response at all, but I'm so pleasantly surprised! You guys contributed to what turned out to be the literal best birthday I've ever had, so thank you, thank you, THANK YOU FOR THAT.
> 
> Er, uh. I think that's all I had to say. We learn more about Sith!Anakin in later snippets. And I think I'm going to make Chewbacca one of the main recurring characters for the story. Han is considered a main character, and idk, Chewie might be, too.
> 
> Anyway. It's four-thirty in the morning, I need to take my ass to bed. Thank you all for reading! I hope you have wonderful days, and I will see you next time! Also, feel free to hmu at chokedacid.tumblr.com!


	3. talk shit, get hit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Skywalker MD make an appearance, and Leia adopts a new motto; for Ahsoka, coming home is a process, and war breaks out on Naboo. (Yiiiikes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm supposed to be writing an essay, and i am procrastinating so hard, it's astounding. i don't think i've ever written this much in one week, like, wow, look at me now.
> 
> the soundtrack for this chapter is "all the things lost" by ms mr. really, i'd only listen to it for fourteen and seventeen, and listen to something happy for the rest of them, otherwise it'll kill your buzz.
> 
> huuuuuge shoutout to BookwormGirl16 for rec'ing [this playlist](http://8tracks.com/lordies/momento-vol-i-the-wild-ones) to me. it's gr9, i recommend you all listen to it, if you're in the mood for some feelings.

**thirteen.**

“In my professional opinion,” four year old Luke says, struggling to get onto his parents’ bed. Weak as he is, Obi-Wan reaches out a hand, pulling the toddler onto the mattress. “Thank you, Uncle Ben!”

“Mhm,” Obi-Wan hums, resting his head back against the pillows. “You were saying?”

Luke — in a large white garment that is either one of Obi-Wan’s tunics or one of Padmé’s dresses — clears his throat. “In my professional opinion,” he repeats, “you’re sick.”

Obi-Wan bites down a laugh. “Is that so?”

Doctor Luke nods solemnly. “Very sick.”

And, well — Obi-Wan had sort of reached that diagnosis himself. The scratchy throat was a pretty big indicator, and the fever had only confirmed his belief. He’s been feeling under the weather since he woke up this morning, but he  _promised_ the twins he’d help them bake a cake today. So he pushed himself out of bed and came straight over. Of course, he hadn’t been in the house for more than two minutes before Padmé was ordering into her bedroom, and forcing him to rest.

(He imagines that, from someone else’s point of view, it was comical to see such a small woman literally pushing him into the room, threatening bodily harm if he got out of that bed for any reason other than to use the bathroom. To another man, it might’ve been embarrassing. But Obi-Wan has seen Padmé reduce the entire Jedi Council to tears in a matter of _minutes_ , and can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed by anything, anymore.)

So, yes, Obi-Wan could’ve guessed that he’s sick. But he feels _so much better_ , hearing it from a professional. “And what do you suppose I should do to get better?”

“You should eat and sleep lots,” Luke suggests. “And stay here, so we take care of you.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Anakin says, walking into the room with a steaming bowl in his hand. “It doesn’t sound like your mom’s letting him leave any time soon.”

Luke nods, a satisfied grin on his face. “Good. He needs a doctor to help him get better.”

Anakin smiles at his son, placing the bowl on the nightstand next to the bed. “Well, your uncle Ben’s a lucky man. It looks like he’s got the best doctor around.” He nods towards the door. “Go see if your sister is feeling any better, Doc.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Luke plants a wet kiss on Obi-Wan’s cheek, then clambers off of the bed, with a bit of assistance.

Anakin runs his fingers through his son’s hair as he passes by, then looks up at Obi-Wan. “I can’t believe you thought Padmé wouldn’t notice you were sick.”

“A man can dream.” Obi-Wan looks to the door, then back to Anakin with a concerned gaze. “Leia’s not feeling well, either?”

“Woke up with a stomach ache. Doctor Luke says she should be fine,” Anakin reports with a smile. “But we’re keeping her in bed, just in case.”

“And the rest of you—”

“Are _fine,_ old man.” Anakin reaches down, his fingers grazing Obi-Wan’s arm, then his cheek, before he pulls away. “Get some rest. You can save the rest of the world when you feel better.”

Obi-Wan lets out a quiet noise, his eyelids getting suspiciously heavy. “Don’t take my absence as an invitation to burn it.”

His eyelids are already slipping shut, but he thinks he sees Anakin smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

**fourteen.**

“ _Dad!_ ”

Leia hears her father’s feet hit the ground running, and he bursts into the room in record time. Later, she may feel bad for waking him up so abruptly. It’s late, and he’s barely getting enough sleep as it is, but she doesn’t know what else to do.

His eyes are wide as they case the room, moving from her, to Luke, to the Togruta hunched over her lap. “What happened?”

For once, Leia is speechless. Mouth open in the makings of a response she doesn’t have, she shakes her head and locks eyes with Luke, who’s crouched down in front of her. They both look to Ahsoka, who shakes in Leia’s arms. Every breath is choked and ragged, and it sounds _painful._ And Leia has never seen her cry, but tears run down her face without cease. Sometimes, sobs rip themselves from her throat, and each one is a stab to Leia’s heart. She bites down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying. None of the women in their family are criers, but something about watching Ahsoka break down like this makes her heart constrict in a way it never has before.

“We just found her like this,” Luke whispers, not taking his eyes off of Ahsoka. The twins had been sneaking into the kitchen for a midnight snack, the way they always did when their parents went to bed early, when they heard the strangled breaths from Ahsoka’s room. They’d gone in, fearing the worst, only to find her in the middle of what Leia is only half-sure is a panic attack. Leia had pulled the Togruta into her arms, in hopes of providing some comfort, but the young woman has yet to say a word, or show any signs of calming down.

Her dad looks just as thrown as she feels, and Leia wonders if he’s ever seen his former apprentice before. She wonders if it would matter. Even if he has, would it make this any less shocking? Any less scary? He takes tentative steps towards the bed, taking a seat on the other side of Ahsoka. Leia recognizes the look in his eyes; it’s that look of absolute panic he gets whenever they get sick, or when Luke has a nightmare, or when he _thinks_ one of them is going to cry. He’s never done well with tears, and while Leia sometimes finds his hopelessness to be amusing, it isn’t now.

Ahsoka sucks in a sharp breath. The exhale is choppy, and Leia has no doubt that it hurts. The human girl wraps her arms around her, and begs the Force to let whatever this is pass already. When she looks back up to her father, he looks just as panicked as before, but not as confused. He almost looks—

Leia’s mother enters the room, a steaming cup of something in her hands. She set the cup down onto the dresser, throwing a sad glance towards Ahsoka. She locks eyes with her husband, and they hold a silent conversation, before Padmé nods. She turns her attention to Luke and Leia. “Let’s give them a moment.”

And Mother — she doesn’t seem panicked. She doesn’t seem as confused and scared as Leia thinks she should be, which makes no sense, unless— “This has happened before.”

Her mother hesitates, then nods. “Not right now,” she requests, brushing hair behind Leia’s ear. She aims a quick glance down at Ahsoka, and Leia nods her understanding. “Luke—”

“Of course,” the boy mutters, standing up. He casts another worried glance towards the Togruta, then exits the room.

Leia looks down at the woman in her lap, then to her parents. Her father lifts a hand, his fingers just barely grazing Ahsoka’s back, but his touch seems to awaken her. She lifts from Leia’s lap with a harsh breath, and starts to curl in on herself. She looks almost as if she’s trying to protect herself from something—Leia just doesn’t know _what_. Another touch from Father, and Ahsoka is clinging to him like a lifeline.

His jaw clenches, and something dark enters his eyes, but he wraps an arm around the woman, and allows her to cry onto his shoulder.

Leia’s mother ushers her out of the room, but the fourteen year old can’t take her eyes off of Ahsoka, who seems to be falling apart and putting herself back together again with every breath she takes. Father says something Leia can’t quite catch, and Ahsoka doesn’t respond.

As Mother closes the door, Leia can’t help but wonder if that’s what it looks like when someone’s world crumbles before their very eyes.

* * *

**fifteen.**

Obi-Wan makes it to the couch first, eyes closing as he sinks into it. Anakin drops down next to him, and Padmé curls up on her husband’s side. They all release tired sighs, the urge to fall asleep being stronger than ever. “Whose idea was it to have kids,” Padmé groans.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t _mine,_ ” Obi-Wan quips, not opening his eyes.

He can almost _feel_ Anakin’s eye roll. “You’re _funny._ ” Anakin readjusts himself, pressing further into Obi-Wan’s side, and pulling Padmé into him. They’re so close, Obi-Wan can feel her hair brushing his arm, but that isn’t surprising. Anakin has always been more tactile than maybe he should’ve been, and now that he doesn’t have to hide it, he’s even more so. Just in the past two years since the twins’ birth, Obi-Wan’s gotten closer to Padmé than he’s ever been.

That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though.

“Would it make us bad parents if we just fell asleep?” Anakin asks, and Obi-Wan would laugh, if he weren’t so exhausted. After chasing the twins around the house for the better part of four hours, he’s too tired to do _anything._ He also bites back the urge to say that he isn’t their parent, at all. It would be meant as a joke, but he isn’t sure he has the energy to not make it sound sad.

Padmé hums, and Obi-Wan feels her shifting on the couch. “No,” she answers. “We’ve indulged them for hours.”

“And it isn’t as if we’re leaving them alone,” Obi-Wan contributes. “Ahsoka and the droids are perfectly capable of taking care of them.” He doesn’t say that, left to their own devices, the three children will wreck the house, the _planet_ , and possibly get themselves banned from _an_ _entire solar system_.

Obi-Wan would know. Anakin and Ahsoka have done it. _Multiple_ times.

R2 will probably help, and 3PO will complain loudly, but do absolutely nothing to stop them. Again: it’s happened, _multiple times._

Anakin lets out an appreciative noise. “I’ve never been so grateful for her existence.” It’s a sentiment they all share. The second Ahsoka walked in the door, R2 in tow, the twins had attached themselves to her legs, and have yet to let go. The eighteen year old had been more than happy to spend time with the twins, and had herded them into the play room with the promise of a fun game.

Obi-Wan has no idea how she does it, but she never fails to get them under control. He doesn’t know what spell she has them under, but they haven’t cried in the thirty minutes since she got here, and he has never loved that girl as much as he does now.

“I’m sure a break won’t hurt,” Anakin murmurs sleepily. Obi-Wan shushes him, and the three adults fall silent. From the play room, they hear Luke and Leia burst into laughter, R2 whirring in response, and they allow themselves the time to relax.

None of them fall asleep, he knows. But it’s a very near thing.

* * *

**sixteen.**

Leia’s fist connects with the man’s face, and he hits the ground _hard._

Han is pulling Leia back before Luke’s mind can even register what’s going on. Leia thrashes in Han’s arms, but the young man doesn’t loosen his grip. He seems rather reluctant to be holding her back, but it doesn’t look like her victim is going to be getting up any time soon. “It’s over, Princess,” Han says over the sound of Leia’s snarls. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

Luke doesn’t even know what _happened_. One second, they were just walking, and the next, his sister was whipping around at the speed of light, attacking a total stranger. He doesn’t know why she suddenly snapped, but he’s sort of afraid to ask. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Leia growls, trying unsuccessfully to lunge at the unconscious man on the ground.

“Yeah, I heard ‘im,” Han says. In the next moment, Chewbacca steps slightly in front of Luke, Han throws him a glance and—

Oh.

“Leia, stop,” Luke insists, trying not to feel annoyed. He isn’t sure if he’s irritated or touched by the fact that his sister and friends are so ready to defend him. It’s sweet, really, but he can take care of himself. He might not be as violent as they are, but he can punch someone, too. “What did he even say?”

“Nothin’ worth repeating.” Han has that look on his face that he gets whenever he’s about to throw Leia over his shoulder. It doesn’t happen often — mostly because she always violently retaliates when he does that — but there are times when Leia is just _impossible,_ and he doesn’t have a choice. “If your mom finds out you’re punching people again, we’re all going to get in trouble.”

Which—yeah, true. Mom _hates_ when they fight. Luke thinks that the Clone Wars have left more of a scar on her than the others; she spent years with her family on the front lines, never knowing if they would make it home. She still gets worried when Dad, Ben, and Ahsoka go out on missions. She can’t stop the men from being Jedi, nor can she stop Ahsoka from being Fulcrum. But she can stop her children from getting hurt by their own mistakes, and she does. She doesn’t approve of their fighting, and because Luke knows how much it scares her, he tries to be as non-confrontational as possible. And, usually, Leia does, too.

But there are times like this, when one wrong word sets her off, and he still doesn’t know how to reel her back in.

Luke turns to Chewbacca. “What did he say?”

“Chewie, say nothing,” Han orders. “Leia, calm down!”

“No! Get your hands off of me, you half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder! And give me your blaster!”

Luke’s eyes widen. “ _Leia!_ ”

“Did she just call me scruffy looking?”

“ _Han!_ ”

Han rolls his eyes, and probably (once again) questions why he sticks with them.

Luke represses the urge to stomp his foot. “Why won’t you just tell me what he said?”

“Is that really the problem here, Luke?”

Well, no, but also yes. “If she’s fighting for me, I want to know why!”

“I really don’t think you do.”

At this point, Luke sort of wants to scream, sort of wants to hit someone. But, seeing as he actually loves his mother, knows how to keep calm, and understands that violence solves nothing, he does neither. Instead, he lets out a loud grunt, rolling his eyes at his overprotective sister and stupid best friend, and stomps away.

He can walk home by himself.

* * *

**seventeen.**

Ahsoka sets Leia down in her crib, careful not to make a sound. She and Luke were especially fussy today, and almost drove their parents insane. By the time they'd finally fallen asleep, Anakin and Padmé were pretty much dead on their feet. Upon his arrival (coincidentally, _after_ the twins had fallen asleep), Obi-Wan took it upon himself to put the adults to sleep, and promised to come back and help her put the twins in their cribs. When twenty minutes passed without a word from him, Ahsoka figured she would just do it herself.

She's almost certain Obi-Wan forgot about her and ended up falling asleep. She wouldn't be surprised; honestly, she's just glad they didn't fall asleep in the middle of the living room again.

Once she's sure that the twins are covered and unlikely to wake up any time soon, she slips out of the nursery. Her footsteps are the only sound in the house and, for a moment, she doesn't know what to do. With everyone asleep, it would be the perfect time for her to catch up on some sleep herself. Except, she doesn't.

She's been living with Anakin and Padmé since she came back for the twins' birth a week ago, and while things have been peaceful (rather, as peaceful as they can be, when there are two screaming infants in the house), she still doesn't— she still isn't sure she should even be here. Every time she looks at Anakin, she's forced to remember what she did, and it haunts her in the way that she never thought it would. Every time he smiles at her, she thinks back to the way he looked at her, eyes full of sickly yellow rage. Every time he laughs, she remembers he screamed as her lightsaber tore through his arm, disconnecting the already metal limb from the rest of his body. Every time he calls her Snips, the words  _I hate you_ reverberate in the echoes of a memory she can't quite purge.

Every time they mention the past, she remembers the way he blamed her for his fall. And some part of her — some minuscule, insecure part — agrees with him. Leaving had been selfish of her; she knew Anakin was unbalanced, to say the least. She knew how attached he was to her, knew how hard it would be on him if anything happened to her. But the betrayal and lack of trust from the Jedi Order, and the pain of losing her best friend had all been too much. She would've lost her mind if she'd stayed, but Anakin lost his mind when she left. She knows that she can't be blamed for how easily Anakin was deceived, but she isn't so complacent as to believe her leaving hadn't tipped the scales in Palpatine's favor, at least a little.

They’ve gotten accustomed to living in the moment, focusing solely on what’s happening in the present. But some part of Ahsoka is always living in the past.  _Most_  of Ahsoka is in the past, scattered in the mosaic of memories dispersed throughout time and space.

There’s an Ahsoka on Christophsis, meeting her Master for the first time, and feeling incredibly unimpressed.

There’s an Ahsoka still on Wasskah, blaster bolts following her like shadows, as she wonders if there’s even a point in running any longer.

There’s an Ahsoka lying on the ground on Mortis, lightsaber just beyond the reach of limp fingertips.

There’s an Ahsoka on Shili, laughing with the man she would’ve called Father, if she’d been given half a chance.

And there’s an Ahsoka on that Separatist command ship, tearing her lightsaber through her former Master’s already metal arm.

The Ahsoka here, on Naboo, is only a part of the picture she once was, and she’s spent the last few weeks struggling to piece herself together, deterred by hidden insecurities and shaky faith. This Ahsoka is so finely tuned to the past, she can't help but worry about it. She wonders, with every passing second, if it's weighing on everyone else as much as it's weighing on her.

Anakin hasn't shown any sign of holding a grudge, but she—she can't allow herself to believe that he didn't mean the things he said. His moods change so quickly, but Ahsoka knows him. Rarely ever does he say things that don't hold some semblance of truth. Some part of him really does blame her for what happened, and she—

She agrees.

She heads to the kitchen, her soft footfalls echoing in the silence. She could leave, she thinks. She could disappear right now, and her friends would be none the wiser. She could leave, and, really, who would miss her? She could sneak out of the house, and be halfway across the system before they even wake up. It would be easy. It's nothing she hasn't done before.

She wonders, briefly, when this became her routine. When she became the girl who made her place in a home, and disappeared before she could get attached, or leave an impression. When did she become a ghost to the galaxy? How had leaving the Order scarred her so much, that she couldn't stand to stay anywhere, lest she start to trust again? When had trust become such a dangerous thing?

"Ahsoka?"

She startles slightly, freezing at the sound of Anakin's voice. She whirls around to face him, giving the man an inquisitive look. "Didn't Obi-Wan put you to bed?"

A smug grin crosses his face. "He tried." Anakin's smile slips, bleeding into something more concerned. "Where are you going?"

For a moment, she isn't sure what he means. Then, taking a glance in the direction she was just heading, she realizes that she  _was_ leaving. She bypassed the kitchen entirely, and is now only steps away from the door. She jolts away from it, flinching at her own flightiness. "Nowhere," she mutters, turning back to face him. "You really should go to bed, Skyguy."

He frowns, and she gets this terrible sense that she's said the wrong thing. She's barely  _spoken_ to him since she came back, and has avoided using that name. But it  _slipped_ , and she can't help but fear that he'll turn into  _him_ again — into the man she faced on the command ship, with yellow eyes and distorted beliefs — all because of her slip up. Her fear must show on her face, because he lets out a quiet sigh. "I'm not going to attack you, Snips."

"I know," she says, though she doesn't. Not really, anyway. The Ahsoka that's been living in his house for the past week knows he'd never attack her; ever since the birth of his kids, he's been himself again. Smug, a bit irritating, an all around human disaster, but —  _good._ He's been happier than she remembers him being the first time around. This Anakin, the one with children and a wife and a happy home, would never try to harm her. But the Ahsoka that fought beside him in war for two years, and the Ahsoka that fought  _against_ him that day — they know better. "I didn't—"

"We're still connected, Ahsoka," he points out.

Oh, she knows. She's  _painfully_ aware. Trying to sever their link has done nothing but cause her pain (actual physical pain, that once kept her bedridden for the better part of a week) and disappointment. But she doesn't see why it's relevant.

"I can still feel what you're feeling," Anakin says bluntly. "Including your fear. And your guilt." 

Ahsoka searches for something to say in response to that; some sort of lie that'll ease his nerves, and get her out of his situation, and possibly out of this house, without any sort of fuss. She comes up empty, and gives up on finding a lie. "When we were fighting," she starts, ignoring the way he tenses up. "You said that you hated me. That it was my fault that you—"

"I was angry, Ahsoka," he says. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did." Of that, she's sure. And though it hurts to say it, it feels sort of good to get it off of her chest. How long has she been carrying around this guilt? How much longer could she have carried it until it swallowed her whole? "But, Anakin — I  _had_ to leave. You know that. I couldn't stay in the Order, anymore. Not after..." She lets it go. She won't go there. She's spent  _months_ trying to put that behind her. And though it's taken away her sense of trust, it can't—it can't take  _everything_ from her. It can't stop her from living. "I did what I had to, for me. And I knew what it would do to you, but I..."

"Ahsoka, stop." He takes a step towards her, and she looks to the ground. "I admit, I wasn't the same after you left. And... yeah, some part of me blamed you for what I did," he admits, sounding pained by his own words. "But I was wrong. You did what was right for you. Even if I didn't like it, I'm proud of you for making that decision. For making the decision I never could. The mistakes I made were mine alone. No one can be blamed but me."

And that—no, that isn't true. Anakin messed up, sure, but it's not as if he didn't have help. Palpatine seduced him; he lied to him, gained his trust, and made him believe that the people he'd trusted his whole life were the ones hurting him. And, for that matter, the Jedi Order made mistakes of their own. They're trying to recreate themselves now, but that doesn't change what they did. Teaching people to suppress their emotions, and that the death of someone close is nothing to get upset over; teaching them that  _love_ is something to be avoided — the Order had more than a few problems, and they definitely played their hand in Anakin's fall.

She wants to say this and so much more, but finds the words dying in her throat. "I cut your arm off," she finds herself blurting instead. She doesn't mean to say it, but it's the truth. It's something that's been haunting her since it happened, and if she's releasing one demon, she's releasing them all. 

"Yeah; my  _fake_ arm," Anakin points out. And he almost sounds  _amused._ "You were wise about that, little one."

Little one, he calls her. As if she's still a youngling, still his student. As if she has a shred of innocence left. "Fake or not," she murmurs, "I  _cut off your arm._ "

"I would've killed you if you hadn't," he says, the words so easily falling from his lips. She wonders if he feels any guilt, or if he's come to grips with what he almost did. She wonders if his decisions keep him up at night, the way hers do. "You and Obi-Wan would both be dead. Padmé and the twins probably would've died soon after. By cutting off my arm, you put me at a disadvantage. It was a smart move."

She takes a step back, shaking her head in disbelief. "How could you say that? Anakin, I cut off your arm! I could've killed you!"

"And I  _would've_ killed you," Anakin repeats. "No  _could've_ about it. Sure, there was the possibility that I would die. But it came down to me or you, Snips. And I'm  _glad_ you chose you. If we ever find ourselves in a position like that again, I hope that you do the same thing, every time."

"Even if...?"

"Yes, Ahoska. Even if you kill me." He places his replacement hand on her shoulder; it's a deliberate choice. "If you want to leave, I can't stop you. I  _won't_ stop you. But at least stay and say goodbye to everyone."

Goodbye. It sounds odd to hear him say it. It sounds...  _final._ Obi-Wan once told her that only Sith deal in absolutes, and  _goodbye_ sounds like the definition of absolute. Jedi believe in continuations. After death, there is the Force. No person is alone, because everyone is connected through the Force. The Force is everywhere. For a Jedi, the Force is all that matters, and it's the very epitome of continuation. And Ahsoka is no Jedi, but she still believes in that. She still believes that there is never really an end. She doesn't believe that she'll ever stop running into Anakin.

She doesn't believe that she'll ever say goodbye to him.

"Get some rest, okay?" Anakin suggests. "And if you still want to leave in the morning..." He sounds saddened by the possibility, and she wonders why he'd want her to stay. If anyone hurt her the way she hurt him, she doesn't think she'd ever want them to stick around. But this isn't just anyone; it's  _Anakin._ She thinks, if the roles were reversed, she would find it in herself to forgive him. He was her Master and best friend. They were — are? — a dynamic duo, even without the aid of the Jedi Order. Master and Padawan, brother and sister.

Snips and Skyguy.

Can she really walk away from that? And if she ever did, would she come back? She doesn't know for sure. And she's too afraid to find out, because as guilt ridden as she is, and as scary as he can be, they  _are_ a continuation. She is no longer the girl she was before she met him, and will never again be that girl. But she's yet to discover who she can be without him, and some part of her (that childish part that sees him as a brother and the bad father she never had) doesn't want to. Anakin Skywalker is a part of her, and she knows she's a part of him, too. Walking away from him, from his family, saying goodbye — it would be ripping herself in half, and hoping she can survive anyway. The dependency is almost laughable, but it's her reality. She never really grew until she met him and Obi-Wan, and knowing them is what crafted her into the person she is now.

Hard to believe it's only been two years.

She's only sixteen, she reminds herself. At sixteen, she should've never been part of war. At sixteen, she's  _supposed_ to be dependent, right? Most girls her age have people they hang onto, people who guide them through the hardest years of their lives. Ahsoka doesn't have that. Rather, she didn't. Not until she found Anakin and Obi-Wan and Padmé. Now, she  _does_ have that, and she's just selfish enough to not want to let go. 

She can have this, she tells herself, heading off to bed. She can have this—this  _family_ , even if only for a few months. And when the twins aren't as fussy, and when they don't need her anymore, she'll leave. She'll leave, and she won't make a sound. It won't make a difference.

Right?

* * *

**eighteen.**

Anakin lets out an _oof!_ as a light weight crashes onto his stomach, startling him awake. He looks down and can’t help but laugh. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Hi, Granddad!” Knees digging painfully into his torso, Rey scrambles up his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Grandma and Grandpa are already in the kitchen. They told me to wake you up.”

“Did they now?” Anakin wouldn’t put it past them. After all of these years, Padmé and Obi-Wan have finally given up on waking him up in the morning. If the twins bring their kids over to visit, they’ll send one of them in to wake him; if not, they’ll just let him sleep. Honestly, it’s _good_ to be old. “Thanks, Rey.”

Luke’s daughter nods cheerfully, not dislodging herself from his neck. “Granddad, Granddad — it’s my birthday!”

“You don’t say,” Anakin gasps in faux shock.

Rey pouts at him, finally pulling away. “You didn’t forget! Grandma would never let you!”

Which—true. Padmé doesn’t even let him forget what day he bought the milk; she would never let him forget a birthday. “I thought it was Ben’s birthday,” he teases.

“ _No,_ Granddaddy, Ben’s birthday is _next month,_ ” Rey says slowly, as if _he’s_ the five year old here. He’d be offended by the sass, but considering it’s a genetic trait, he can’t even find it in himself to be mad. He’s actually sort of proud. “Grandpa says you gotta get out of bed, or he’s gonna fight you.”

Anakin doubts Obi-Wan actually said that. Rey has the tendency to paraphrase, and things usually get lost in translation somewhere between her brain and her mouth. Obi-Wan is too old to fight anyone —not that it stops him; he’s taken on the Yoda lifestyle of being a Jedi until his literal dying day — but it’s a funny thought. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” And he grins, slow and mischievous, up at his granddaughter.

She eyes him in confusion, before gasping. She tries to escape, but it’s already too late. “Grandad, no. Granddad, _no!_ ” She shrieks as his arms shoot out like snakes, wrapping themselves tightly around her as he flips them over. She laughs loudly as he pretends to bite her neck, making loud and obnoxious chomping noises, even as she squirms in his arms. Her small hands push at him in a hopeless and half-hearted attempt to get him away, but he’s relentless. He blows a raspberry on her stomach, and almost catches a knee to the face for it.

“ _Heeeey,_ ” someone whines from the foot of the bed. “No fair!” Anakin barely has time to look up, before another weight is added onto the bed, and he’s getting tackle hugged from behind. “You can’t hog Grandfather, Rey, it’s not _fair._ ”

“It’s _my_ birthday.” Rey sticks her tongue out at Ben, once again wrapping her arms around Anakin’s neck. “I’m _s’posed_ to hog him.”

“Nuh uh! Grandma and Grandpa were with you _all morning._ Can’t you go steal someone _else’s_ family?”

“I’m not stealing them!”

“Yes, you are! _I’m_ Granddad’s favorite, _go away!_ ”

Rey tries to lunge at her cousin, but Anakin holds her back with a laugh. He really shouldn’t encourage this, but she’s incredibly scrappy for someone her age, and Ben is notoriously possessive. They fight so much, it barely warrants a second glance. But Leia doesn’t like it, and he promised he’d try to stop them. “Easy, kiddo.” With a smile, he presses a loving kiss to his granddaughter’s cheek. He reaches around to grab Ben, and the six year old scrambles to his front. Ben squeezes himself between Anakin and Rey, situating himself on his grandfather’s lap. Anakin grins down at him, giving him a kiss, too. “You have three grandparents, your parents, and Aunt Soka. There’s more than enough of everyone to go around.”

“But—”

“No fighting,” he says firmly. “Otherwise, your mom’s going to put us _all_ in time out.”

If someone told twenty-one year old Anakin Skywalker that his then unconceived daughter would one day be putting him in time out on a near weekly basis, he would’ve gone straight to Ahsoka and spent the next _week_ laughing over the impossibility of it all.

And yet, here he is.

Ben deflates, bottom lip jutting out in the trademark Skywalker pout. “ _Fiiiine,_ ” the boy groans. “But no more playing without me!”

Rey throws her cousin a look that would get her in trouble with literally anyone except Anakin, and he pretends he doesn’t notice. Instead, he smirks at his grandson. “You want to play, too, huh?” The kid nods, and Rey snickers. Before Ben can turn around and ask what she’s laughing at, Anakin attacks, playfully biting and tickling both of them relentlessly. Their shrieks of laughter fill the room, and he wonders if this is the wake up Padmé and Obi-Wan imagined. It probably isn’t, he muses, but it’s the one he prefers.

Someone clears their throat at the door. “You know,” a woman says, “I’m starting to see what Mother meant. You really did stop aging at sixteen, Dad.”

Ben hanging onto his neck like a monkey, and Rey completely wrapped around his arm, Anakin turns to face his daughter, giving her what he hopes is a stern look. “As your father, I think I deserve a bit more respect than that.”

“You are a _child._ ”

“You’re grounded.”

Leia throws her head back in laughter, eyes crinkling at the sides. Not for the first time, Anakin is thrown by how much she looks like her mother. She grew up into the beautiful woman he knew she would be, and he feels unnecessarily emotional and _proud._ “Papa said to stop attacking the children and come out here,” Leia reports, giggles still escaping her lips. “And Ahsoka just arrived.”

Anakin brightens at the mention of the Togruta. (As if he _doesn’t_ see her almost every day.) He looks down at the kids attached to him and grins. “First person to knock Ahsoka down gets to help me do the spinny thing.”

The children gasp and almost break him in their rush to get off the bed. Ben trips over the sheets and lands flat on his face; Rey laughs at his misery, sprinting right past him. He springs up, shouting as he chases after her.

“Don’t break Ahsoka,” Leia calls to the retreating children. When they’re gone, she gives him that look that usually precedes her putting him in time out. “You know Mother hates it when you and Ahsoka take them racing.”

“I never said we were going to race!” They’re going to race. Anakin refuses to let Ahsoka leave without once again proving that she's not a better pilot than him. If the look on Leia’s face is anything to go by, she doesn’t believe him anyway. “Besides, kids love the spinny thing. It’s a classic.”

“I repeat: _you are a child._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm not even gonna lie, this chapter is my favorite so far. It took me literally all day to write it, but it was worth it, imo. There's so much I want to talk about, fUCK, where do I even _begin_.
> 
> Okay, first: Ahsoka. Her story in this 'verse is so complex, and I fucking love it. I'm going to expand on it, I promise, we are going to learn all about my queen. I want to cover what she did in the time between her leaving the Jedi Order and her coming back to save Ani Banani, and how she's coping with cutting off his arm (because _yikes_ ), and how Fulcrum fits into everything (as well as how the Jedi Order works now). I want to talk about all of these things, and I will! But they'll happen in sporadic snapshots. 
> 
> Her break down is covered in two more snippets; this one was shown from Leia's POV, and we'll get one from Padmé's, and one from Anakin's, though possibly not in that order.
> 
> I added Ben and Rey here, because Rey is a Skywalker, and I refuse to let anyone convince me otherwise. Fuck Lucas and Disney and anyone who says she isn't, THIS IS MY WORLD, SHE IS WHO I WANT HER TO BE. (Also, for anyone who isn't sure what the [spinny thing](http://chokedacid.tumblr.com/post/141653190729/anakinsrightarm-i-think-this-is-one-of-my) is.)
> 
> I've also kept housing arrangements ambiguous. I haven't explicitly stated whether Ahsoka and Obi-Wan (and Han, for that matter) live with the Skywalkers or not. I'm leaving that up to interpretation. If you want to believe that they all live in one house, go for it, dude. If you like to think that they all have their own places, and just come over a lot, more power to you. All I'm saying for sure is that Obi-Wan lives on his own until he starts dating Anidala, but sort of just comes over every day. And Ahsoka is gone a lot for Fulcrum business.
> 
> And, lastly, I... cannot imagine these losers aging. That has no relevance, but it just came to me when I was writing that last scene. I was literally writing it, and seeing them all the same way they were in the movies/shows. It's as if everyone stopped aging at twenty-five, and that's how they are eternally portrayed in my head. Either they're smol children, or they're young adults who look like models.
> 
> Thank you, again, to everyone who's left feedback on this! It all means the world to me. I kid you not, I read every single comment at least ten times before replying to it, and then read it again pretty much every day afterwards. Every bit of feedback (comments/bookmarks/kudos/the works) means the world to me, and I cannot thank you enough! Also, if you guys have anything you want to see in particular (i.e., one person requested more protective!Leia), let me know? I want to make as many snippets as I can, and I want to write what you guys want to see! Or, if you have something you imagine for this 'verse but you want to be the one to write it, go for it!
> 
> As usual, feel free to hmu on tumblr, and I'll catch you cool cats later!


	4. in which the author desperately needs to find her chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin doesn't tolerate people messing with his family, and Luke needs a fucking hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: don't post any angst, the fandom doesn't need that right now. just change the numbers, post chapter five first, don't do this to these people, you don't want to angst rn.  
> also me: how bout i do anyway
> 
> if i had to put a soundtrack to this one, it'd either be "it's quiet uptown" (twenty-two and twenty-three) or "satisfied" (twenty), both from the hamilton soundtrack. i gave up on the hamilton au i was writing, and instead dedicated my life to ruining my life. how 'bout that.

**nineteen.**

The door shuts quietly behind the retreating nurses, as they cart the sleeping twins out of the room for the night. Something in Anakin feels cold and _worried_ , now that they’re gone. But Obi-Wan has already assured him that the children will be safe, and he’ll see them again in the morning.

It doesn’t ease Anakin’s fears, but he pretends that it does, for Obi-Wan’s sake. The man hasn’t said anything, but Anakin isn’t foolish enough to think that they’ve completely moved past the incident with Palpatine. As hard as Obi-Wan tries to act like everything is normal, Anakin almost feels— _stifled_ around him. It isn’t intentional, he knows. Neither of them hold grudges over what happened that night, though they’ve carefully avoided talking about it. They don’t hate each other for what was said and done that night, but they—

They aren’t the same. And Anakin would be lying if he said that didn’t hurt a bit.

Padmé is sound asleep on the bed, the steady beep of her heart monitor being the only sound in the room. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka all carefully avoid looking at each other, and Anakin wonders if it’s his fault. He wonders if they’re truly afraid of him, and if this is how things are going to be from now on.  He hopes not, because this—this isn’t going to work for him.

He realizes, of course, that he doesn’t deserve their forgiveness, or their normalcy. They may not want to admit that they’re uneasy around him, but he isn’t so blind as to not notice. And he isn’t going to pretend that he doesn’t deserve it. His own words echo in his mind, playing like a terrible tune stuck on repeat, and he’s caught cringing at his own voice. Sometimes, it doesn’t even sound like his voice. It can’t _possibly_ be his voice, because he would never say those things. He would never yell at Obi-Wan that way, and he’d never say those things to Ahsoka. He would never be so blind as to believe that becoming Sith scum is better than being a Jedi.

Yet he did, and he was.

The tension rests uncomfortably on all of them, and Anakin would leave, if not for the fact that his wife is the one in the hospital bed. Awkward silence or not, he’s not going anywhere. But he doesn’t want them to leave because if they do, he’s not entirely sure they’ll come back.

The first person to make a decision is Ahsoka. She glances up at him unsurely, then back to her lap. And with a parting glance towards Padmé, she stands from the bed.

She doesn’t take a single step before she tips over.

Anakin and Obi-Wan lunge for her at the same time. Having already been relatively close to her, Anakin reaches her before she hits the ground, though her knees come close. “Ahsoka!”

“I’m fine,” she says through gritted teeth. Anakin doesn’t even need their bond to know that she’s literally lying through her teeth. “Just— _ah._ ”

“She’s bleeding,” Obi-Wan points out. “Set her down.”

Anakin carefully sets her back down on the bed, and finally notices the hastily wrapped bandage on her thigh. His jaw clenches, and he tries to swallow the all too familiar rage and worry he feels. “What happened?”

“Rodian,” she hisses, her fingers digging into his shoulder. It’s odd, he thinks, that she survived him _and_ Palpatine, but a blaster bolt might get the better of her. “Lothal.”

“What were you doing there,” Obi-Wan asks, re-entering the room. Anakin doesn’t even remember him leaving, but assumes he went to find a doctor. One enters the room soon after, slipping past Obi-Wan and over to Ahsoka. Anakin steps away as the doctor kneels in front of her, joining Obi-Wan at the foot of the bed.

“Dealing with the Separatists, of course.” Ahsoka flinches as the doctor unwraps the bandage, blood causing the material to stick to her skin. “Someone has to take the rest of them out.”

“That’s the job of the Jedi, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan says with apparent disapproval. “And you’re—”

“I know.” Her wound is open and ugly, but it doesn’t look infected, from where Anakin is standing. And as far as he can tell, the bullet went straight through her leg. It’s a miracle she’s still alive. Anakin wonders, distantly, if the Rodian is still alive, too.

If he is, he won’t be for much longer.

“I’m not a Jedi,” Ahsoka continues. “But I was. I’ve spent my entire life training to take out Separatists. It’s all I know how to do. And the people on Lothal, they—” She breaks off in a hiss of pain, and the doctor gives her an apologetic smile. “They can’t protect themselves the way we can. And they’re so far away, there’s no guarantee the Jedi would make it to them in time.”

Anakin doesn’t know whether to be proud or exasperated. As Jedi, they were taught to have patience; they were taught to wait for backup, and to never force themselves to go through anything alone. Even if she isn’t aligned with them anymore, Ahsoka should’ve known better. She should’ve never tried to save a planet by herself. And yet, he can’t be mad at her.

Wouldn’t he do the same thing?

The doctor sighs. “I admire your heroism, but it’s put you in a bit of a bad place. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and whoever wrapped your leg like this only made it worse. You’ll need some time in the bacta tank, but you should make a full recovery.”

Relief washes over Anakin like a flame, and his mind clears. “Ahsoka, Padmé should be awake by the time you get out.”

Ahsoka looks up to him, and nods slowly. “Where are you going?” She winces again as the doctor lifts her from the bed, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

Anakin feels a cool wave of fresh anger ripple through him, and he hides it with an arrogant smile. “I have some business to take care of.” At his side, Obi-Wan clears his throat meaningfully. “ _We_ have business to take care of.”

His former Padawan looks like she wants to ask more, but the doctor and his nurses whisk her away before she can. Anakin watches her leave, his smile slowly slipping as she fades from view. “Well,” Obi-Wan says, drawing Anakin’s attention. “Am I to assume we’re heading to Lothal?”

Anakin sends his former master a crooked smile, cool and self-assured. “Yep.”

* * *

**twenty.**

Luke was eight when he figured out Obi-Wan wasn't actually his uncle.

It was one of those random epiphanies that came to him when he was too happy, and let his thoughts run away from him. The realization shook him to the core, and he thought there was _no way_ anyone else could know. Leia always called him Uncle Ben, and Mom and Dad never told them not to. So they all had to think—right?

Because no one else knew, and because he didn't want to hurt them, he kept it to himself.

(He would've told Ahsoka, but the last time someone tried to tell her that her family wasn't family, she almost ripped out their spleen. And while he’s confident that she likes him a lot more than she liked that person, he still doesn’t want to take any chances.)

He wouldn't tell anyone what he knew, because he knew it would confuse them, but bottling it up _hurt._ There were some nights where he was so _confused_ and nothing made sense, and he kind of always felt like crying, because if Ben wasn't his uncle, who was he?

It eventually reached the point where his sister noticed how tormented he was and confronted him about it. Upon telling her about his epiphany, he discovered that Leia already knew. In fact, she'd known for the better part of a year.

That was the first time Luke ever thought his big sister was smarter than him.

It was only a few months later, a couple of weeks after his ninth birthday, that he figured out that his parents were in love with Ben, and he kind of loved them, too.

This wasn't as confusing as finding out that Ben wasn't his uncle. It made a lot of sense, actually. Because Uncle Ben Who Isn't His Uncle At All looks at Dad the same way that Mom does, and Dad looks at Ben that way, too, and Mom looks at both of them the way they look at her. They've always been that way, and them being in love was the only reasonable explanation.

When he ran to tell Leia, body vibrating with happiness and excitement, she told him that she already knew, and that they'd all been dating for a while; didn't he notice?

Well—no. He hadn't. It wasn't the second time he thought his sister was smarter than him, but it was the moment that confirmed it.

In their fifteen years of life, he's learned that he can be a bit slow on the uptake. Leia has their mom's wisdom and intuition, and tends to notice things lightyears before he does. She also has their dad's fury and protectiveness, and Papa Ben's patience and care. She's the perfect mixture of all of their parents, and she even has Ahsoka's wittiness and independence, Luke—

Luke doesn't quite know where he fits in. But he doesn't mind, actually.

His sister is the most important person in his life. His mom tells him all the time, when the rest of the world turns on him, Leia will still have his back. When his parents and Ahsoka and his friends are all dead and gone, Leia will still be there. She's the only person in his life who will never leave his side, his mom always says, and Leia swears it, too. No matter what happens, they're a team.

His sister is his other half. He knows her better than he knows himself, or anything. He knows that, no matter how strong she wants to seem, she's one the kindest people in the whole galaxy. She cares so much for everyone she meets, and takes it upon herself to protect them from every terrible thing that could ever happen to them. He knows that she _does_ get hurt by the things that people say sometimes; their words cut deep, and it sometimes leaves her feeling shallow and angry and, in the depths of her heart, insecure. He knows how much it means to Leia that her family stays safe and sane; she's read up on the Clone Wars, too, she knows what their family went through. He knows how much it scares her that they could be taken from her at any time.

It's because Luke knows his sister so well that he knows she doesn't _always_ pick up on things before him. Some things — trivial, mundane, life-changing — fly right over her head until they come back to bite her in the ass. Like the way their father's eyes sometimes turn yellow when he's too angry, just before Papa Ben urges them out of the room and the yelling starts. Or the way their mom never sleeps on certain nights, and spends the better part of the following day chugging caffeinated drinks and powerhousing through meetings.

Or the way she herself feels about Han.

It'll be a while before she figures it out, he knows. He doesn't think she's ever loved anyone the way she loves Han. And because Han has been in their lives for so long (about five years now), Leia probably doesn't think what she feels now is any different from what she felt back when they first met him. A bit fonder, sure, but she still has some ill opinions of him. Luke would be willing to bet his life that Leia doesn't realize that she looks at Han the way Papa Ben looks at Dad, or that Han sometimes looks at her the way.

It's sort of funny to watch them dance around each other.

Luke feels warm affection swell within him as he observes his family. Leia's face is framed by the candlelight as she asks Luke once again if he wants to blow out the candles, and he shakes his head. He watches as she takes a deep breath and releases it, extinguishing the flames completely.

Even now, as Han tries to tell her which piece of _her_ birthday cake he wants, and she orders him away, their eyes gleam in a certain way. Leia is frowning in the way she only ever does around Han, where her eyes smile for her, because her lips are perpetually turned downward when it comes to the former smuggler. Their parents look on in fond amusement, and Ahsoka cuts her own piece, since Leia's taking too long. Chewie wails at his best friend, to which Han tells him that _no_ , he doesn't _want_ the corner piece, it won't taste as good.

Luke sits at his sister's side, grinning widely as she finally lets out a laugh. She has icing on her cheek now, and Dad's fingers are coated in the substance. She prepares to return fire, when their mother steps in, telling them to _put down the icing_ and _Ahsoka, stop stealing the cake, it's not yours._ Leia looks—she looks so happy. It's a look he rarely ever sees on his fierce sister, and for his birthday, he wishes that he could keep that smile on her face forever. She deserves it, even if it comes at the expense of his own happiness. It's not even a question that needs to be asked. He loves his sister more than anything in this life.

Even Han Solo.

* * *

**twenty-one.**

Alarms blare like sirens, and Obi-Wan knows he's on a clock. Anakin and the others are already boarding the ship, hopefully without much difficulty. Last he checked, Ahsoka was running defense; he just needs her to hold out just a little while longer, just until Obi-Wan is sure that the base is cleared. There's no way they'll be able to take down all of the troopers, but they can at least make sure all of the children are saved.

He slides around a corner, allowing the Force to guide him through this maze of a ship they've apprehended. If there are any children left, the Force will take him to them. He just really needs to Force to hurry up, _they're running out of time._

Halfway down the hall, he feels a phantom tug to the left, and follows it. He runs into the room, and stumbles to a stop.

A child stands on the other side of the room, a black blaster pointed right at the Jedi. If Obi-Wan had to guess, he'd say he's about Ben or Rey's age, and he's holding the gun like an _expert._ Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wonder how long this rebellion has been in the making, and how the blazes they could've missed it.

The child's face is almost impassive, but his eyes give away too much. He's terrified. The fact that Obi-Wan just charged into the room with a lightsaber out and ignited probably isn't helping. Realizing this, Obi-Wan deactivates his weapon, slowly holstering it for the child to see. "I won't hurt you," he reassures the boy, holding his hand out to him. "We’re here to save you."

The child says nothing. He keeps the blaster pointed at Obi-Wan, and the Jedi has the feeling that if he pulls the trigger, neither of them will be leaving this ship.

"Do you have a family, young one?"

Hesitation; a shake of the head.

Obi-Wan didn't think so. If Fulcrum's intel is correct — which it seems to be — every child here was kidnapped not too long after birth. For the past eight or nine years of this child's life, he's been on this base. The grandfather and father in Obi-Wan can't help but imagine one of _his_ children here, and he feels distant rage pooling in his stomach. "You must have parents out there somewhere," Obi-Wan tries. "We can help you find them."

Pause. A breath. Finally, "We don't have families. We only have the Order."

Those words sound _bitterly_ familiar. "That's no way to live, little one. This isn't safe. I can't let you stay here."

The boy stares at him, then lowers his blaster, if only slightly. He takes a half-step to the left, and Obi-Wan's eyes widen at the sight of three more children, all younger than the boy he's been speaking to, hiding behind him. The boy nods them forward, and they all rush to Obi-Wan, clinging desperately to his clothes. Obi-Wan picks up the youngest one — a little girl, maybe two or three years old — and places her in his arms.

The boy hasn't moved.

"Are you not coming?"

With shifty eyes, the boy aims the gun at Obi-Wan again, and the man— _panics._ If the boy shoots him now, with the child in his arms, and the others at his feet, there's no way he can possibly dodge, or protect—

The boy pulls the trigger, and the blaster bolt hits the wall behind Obi-Wan, another following it. "I put up a fight," the boy says. "But you pushed me down, and grabbed the kids before I could do anything. I tried to shoot you, but I only hit the wall."

Obi-Wan wonders why the child will go through the trouble of fabricating such a lie, instead of just coming with him. Then, he hears it: footsteps coming right towards them. And Obi-Wan has a feeling it isn't Anakin coming to his rescue.

The child is staying behind so that there’s no one to blame but Obi-Wan. So the children aren't traitors—they were kidnapped.

Through the Force, Obi-Wan feels his family reaching for him, urging him to get out. They’ve run out of time, and leaving him behind isn’t an option. But he can’t leave the child behind, either.

If they leave him, then what was the point of coming at all?

But the boy doesn’t seem to be budging. Obi-Wan doesn’t have the time or the hands to grab him and force him to run, and he gets the feeling that any sudden movements will result in him being shot. He has to leave him. What choice does he have?

The footsteps get closer, and Obi-Wan swallows guilt. “We will come back for you,” he vows, and he refuses to move until the boy nods, even if only slightly. Obi-Wan nods back, and leads the children he could save out of the base.

As they load themselves into the ship, he commits the boy’s face and height to memory. He doesn’t know how long it’ll be until Leia’s forces decide to storm the base again, but one thing is for certain: he _will_ go back for him.

* * *

**twenty-two.**

Padmé doesn’t know what to say to them yet.

They were bound to find out eventually. She knew that. It was something that she, Anakin, and Obi-Wan have known since the children were little, and Ahsoka first broke down. They knew it would come back to haunt them one day, and they would no longer be able to hide from the kids. But they’d foolishly put it off, in hopes that maybe the children would never find out.

She wishes, suddenly, that she’d prepared more.

Now, her children stare at her with wide eyes, seeking answers that she hasn’t yet formulated. She’s never seen Luke so attentive, or Leia so afraid. She understands how they feel; Ahsoka has always been their mighty big sister. She’s never so much as shed a tear in their presence, and for her to suddenly break down like _that?_ It must be a shock to their system, and it’s a feeling Padmé knows too well.

“What happened back there,” Leia asks without delay, leaning over the kitchen table as if too much distance will cause her to miss something. “What’s wrong with Ahsoka?”

Padmé still hasn’t figured out how to phrase it, but she knows that she has to try. Before she can, though, Luke blurts, “Post traumatic stress disorder.” Both Padmé and Leia turn to stare at him, neither of them knowing what to say to his declaration. His voice is shaky, but he sounds confident in his words.

He’s known for a while.

Seeing their looks, he shrugs slightly. “Rex says a lot of people who were part of the war have it. Even though the clones were trained to deal with any sort of trauma, a lot of them suffer from it, too. I did a bit of reading on it, and sort of figured…”

Leia stares at her brother in shock for another moment, before her head swivels back to Padmé. “Mom?”

Sometimes, Leia can be hard to read; other times, she’s about as see-through as her father. She says _Mother_ or _Father_ when everything is in control, and when she’s asserting her dominance. _Daddy,_ when she’s up to something. _Mom_ or _Dad,_ when she’s scared or confused, or, in rare cases, when she’s really happy.

Padmé would give anything for this to be one of her happy moments, but she knows it’s not. “That’s right,” she confirms, nodding to Luke. Not for the first time, she wonders if her son is really as naïve as he wants everyone to believe. “Ahsoka has PTSD. And your fathers, to some degree.”

“But it shouldn’t be that bad, right,” Leia asks, looking between them. It may be the first time she’s ever looked to her brother for answers. “PTSD—you have panic attacks and nightmares, but not—not _that._ Ahsoka wasn’t just panicking, Mom, she sounded like she was in pain.” The girl sounds slightly panicked herself, and Padmé desperately wants to change the subject. But if they don’t talk about this now, when will they?

“The last time Ahsoka broke down like that, she was eighteen,” Padmé explains, allowing the information to sink in. “It’s been twelve years since she allowed herself to cry, but she’s been living with her memories the entire time.”

The twins exchange a look, both seeming a bit more understanding, but still confused. “What about Dads?” Luke asks. “They have it, too, right? They were in the war longer than Ahsoka, but they’ve never…”

Something shifts in Leia’s eyes. “Is this going to happen to them, too?”

Padmé hesitates. “It’s possible, but unlikely. Ahsoka’s experience in the war…” She trails off, and can’t help but think back to every time Anakin came to her after missions, panic and fear and anger waging in his eyes. When Ahsoka was kidnapped and hunted like prey. When Ahsoka watched a Jedi die in her arms. When Ahsoka died. And that all only happened in the span of a few _weeks._

That didn’t account for the time that her best friend framed her for a crime she would’ve never committed, and the only people she looked at as family turned their backs on her. It didn’t account for the months she spent on her own, trying to find her place in a galaxy that was far too large for a sixteen year old to handle. It didn’t account for the day she came back, only to have to severely wound her former Master, or the guilt that she has to live with.

“Mother?”

She looks up at her daughter. Leia looks more composed, now that she has an understanding of what’s going on. Still surprised; still afraid. But no longer out of her depth. “Ahsoka’s experience was a lot different from what Anakin and Obi-Wan went through,” Padmé continues. “She was a lot younger than they were, and wasn’t always with them. The things she went through—some of them, she went through alone. No one really knows what she went through—not the way that she does.”

Luke and Leia nod, slowly taking in all of the information. “So holding all of this in,” Luke starts tentatively, “it was hurting more than it was helping?”

Padmé nods. “The war ended fourteen years ago, just before you were born. And she’s been walking around with all of that ever since. Bottling it up has only hurt her in the long run.”

“You said she’s gone through it alone,” Leia mentions. “But when Father touched her, she clung to him. It’s because he was her Master, right? So she _wasn’t_ alone.”

“Being her Master doesn’t mean he never left her side,” Padmé tells her. “They were apart, just as much as they were together. But Anakin…” She smiles, softly—sadly. “Anakin was the only person who was always _on_ her side. Even when no one else could be.”

They’re all silent for a few moments, as Padmé pushes away memories of the war, and the twins try to imagine it. She hopes they never have to experience it for themselves. “Is she going to be okay,” Luke finally asks.

Padmé nods without missing a beat. “Ahsoka always manages to pull through. She just needs to let it out, every once in a while. But she’ll be okay. She always is.”

* * *

**twenty-three.**

One time, when Luke was thirteen, he got the insane idea to climb the side of the Jedi Temple. Anakin still has no idea who convinced him it was a good idea, but he managed to get pretty far up, before someone called out to him. In his surprise, his grip slackened, and he fell. Thankfully, Anakin had already taught him several ways to use the Force, and he’d managed to soften his landing. In the end, he still broke his arm.

It was, without question, the most terrifying day of Anakin’s life as a father.

He knew his son would be okay, but he’d been so scared that he wouldn’t be. All of the possibilities of what _could’ve_ happened ran through his mind faster than he could keep up with. If they’d missed even _one_ day of training, Luke could’ve died. Anakin could’ve lost his son in the blink of an eye, and he hadn’t even been there to stop it.

Luke handled the situation with typical Skywalker grace. After the doctors had convinced him that a broken arm did _not_ mean he was permanently disfigured and destined for death, he’d grinned and pushed away any pain. He continued with his Jedi training, doing what he could with only one arm. And when his arm was back in tip top shape, he tried to climb the Temple again. Which was to be expected.

He _is_ a Skywalker, after all.

Anakin had been so scared that first day. When he’d heard that his son fell, he was terrified that he’d lost him already. He thought that his son had died, all because his father hadn’t taught him enough, and he couldn’t defend himself. It was a very near thing. When the ordeal was over, Anakin swore to himself that he would never let Luke be hurt that way again. Never in a million years would he let his family feel the sort of helpless anxiety that they had back then. He would protect them, if it was the last thing he did, he said.

That was the most terrifying day of Anakin’s life. Was.

Because nothing can compare to the moment that his son’s scream rips through the crowded alley space. Forgetting about the bounty hunters attacking him, Anakin whips around to face his son, and the world starts to swim in his vision _._

Luke is on the ground behind Ahsoka, cradling his arm. Ahsoka stands in a crouch, an almost feral look in her eyes. Her breaths are sharp and shallow, and her lips are twisted in an unfamiliar snarl. In the twenty years he’s known her, Anakin doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so angry.

Anakin chances a glance towards his son, trying to see past Ahsoka’s frame and the darkness. It takes him a second, but his eyes eventually latch onto the source of Luke’s pain. And when they do, all he sees is _red._

He hears the squelch of his glove as his grip tightens around his lightsaber, his entire body shaking in rage. He locks eyes with Ahsoka, and isn’t at all surprised when she gasps. Even if he can’t see it, he could feel his eyes changing. He can feel _himself_ changing, the shift being so comfortable and easy, he almost misses it. He almost misses the way he slips into another persona, the same way one would slip into a suit; he feel himself slipping into someone who isn’t bound by morals or by codes, someone who only cares about one thing, and _oh,_ is it something he knows.

Hatred, his oldest friend.

He turns away from his children—Luke _and_ Ahsoka; it’s one of those rare times when his relationship with her is startlingly clear, and he knows whether to step into his big brother shoes or the fatherly role. This sort of rage makes things almost nauseatingly transparent, and he can’t help but wonder why he walked away from it. Because the fear in the bounty hunters’ eyes as they gaze upon him, trembling before a monster that even the Force can’t tame, is nothing short of intoxicating. These bounty hunters, who stole his son’s lightsaber on the street. These bounty hunters, who cut his son’s hand off with that lightsaber, as if they’d ever had the right to _touch it._ He gets so much pleasure from watching them squirm, already prepared to run away before he can attack. They’re sort of growing on him, in a morbid way.

It’s too bad he’ll have to kill them.

“Ahsoka,” he calls behind him. His voice doesn’t fit the fire burning in his veins, but he thinks it’s just hard enough, just deep enough to be allowed. “Get Luke out of here.”

“Anakin—”

“Ahsoka,” he bites out, turning his head just slightly towards her. She gets another glimpse of yellow, and he hopes she still sees Anakin somewhere. He doesn’t feel like Anakin; he may not be Anakin. He wasn’t Sith long enough to get another name, but he suddenly wishes he had been. He wishes he had a name for the darkness he becomes when his family is in danger. He wishes he had fallen just enough, killed just enough, to have gotten more out of his time.

He wishes he’d been Sith long enough to be feared. If he had, none of this would’ve happened.

He’ll just have to rectify that now, won’t he?

He sees Ahsoka nod after a moment, and he turns his attention back to the bounty hunters. He listens for them, hears as the Togruta gathers the crying boy into her arms and pulls him away. He keeps a close eye on their attackers, silently daring them to follow the two as they escape. Some part of him really want them to. It’ll just be that much more fun to kill them, striking them down as they run, because _how dare_ _they_ try something so foolish?

But it’s wishful thinking. They won’t try to get past him. No one in their right mind would try to run right past a man with yellow eyes, after the people he’s trying to protect. Even in this day and age, people know a Sith Lord when they see one. And as Dooku’s killer and Palpatine’s last apprentice, he _is_ Sith. He’s the last remaining one.

And he fully intends to show this bounty hunter scum what it truly means to fall to the Dark Side.

* * *

**twenty-four.**

It takes Han a while, but he eventually comes to the same conclusion that everyone is bound to come to at some point in their lives: Padmé Amidala is actually a goddess. Not only is she a goddess, but she’s a manipulative one, who actually has the patience of a saint, but can also take over the entire galaxy, if she wants to.

(He doesn’t know why she just won’t do it already. They’re all expecting it. She was a queen,  _at fourteen years old._ He’s pretty sure she can be one badass empress now.)

After two years with her and her odd (and horribly dramatic) family, he likes to think that he’s pretty much used to them. He’s even reached the point where he walks into their house at any time of day, and raids their fridge like it’s his own; he even sleeps over sometimes.

It’s on the morning after one such night when he’s handing a half-sleep Ahsoka a cup of coffee, and pulling a box of pancake mix down for Luke, that he realizes how comfortable he’s gotten here. He spends more time here than he does anywhere else, and he’s gotten awfully  _domestic_ with these losers. When he met Padmé two years ago, this wasn’t his intention. He didn’t plan on sticking around long enough for her to learn his name, let alone to adopt him into her family. He doesn’t even know how this—

She tricked him. She bamboozled him into being part of her family, and he didn’t even realize it.

He laughs in amazement, ignoring the weird looks he gets from the twins and Ahsoka. He can’t even find it in himself to be upset over the deception. It’s just a reminder to never try to fuck with Padmé Amidala, because she will _always_ win.

He settles into his favorite seat at the table, feeling misplaced euphoria. He really should be angry with the woman; he doesn't do too well with being deceived. But, for once, someone lying didn't to him didn't have disastrous results. It might've just been the best lie of his life. Not that he's ever going to say so.

Ahsoka slumps into the chair next to him, holding her caffeine like a holy grail, savoring every sip she takes. Luke and Leia stand over the stove, debating what they food they can make without getting into trouble or burn down the house. Han watches them, trying not to feel adoration for these people, or happiness at how _familiar_ it all is.

But part of him can't help it. It feels good to _know_ something. To be in a place where he no longer has to keep one eye open as he sleeps, or second guess every move he makes. Coming here is always a guarantee. The twins will always be here, and so will Ahsoka, and—

"Tell me there's coffee left," Padmé pleads in a groggy voice, rubbing her eyes as she makes her way into the kitchen.

One glance at her, and Han promptly chokes on his coffee. Through blurry eyes, he sees the Skywalker trio give him alarmed looks as violent coughs wrack his body, and only a beat passes before Ahsoka bursts into laughter.

He guesses she _would_ be the only one to see it. As close as she and Padmé are, the senator isn't actually related to her by blood. In some time between the day they met and now, Ahsoka _had_ to have noticed how gorgeous the woman is. And it's not like Han hasn't noticed, either. It was one of the very first things he _did_ notice about her. It's just—

Who _actually_ wakes up looking that good?

Ahsoka pats his back unhelpfully, and leans in to whisper, "Just wait until you see the crop top."

Scratch that. He isn't used to this _at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, look. Look. I am actually bi af, and Padmé Amidala in that white crop really fucked up my entire life. [This](http://anaklin.tumblr.com/post/139788209437) is where the crop top thing comes from, and [this](http://anakinskydala.tumblr.com/post/139390468211/prequel-trilogy-text-posts/) is where the waking up thing comes from.
> 
> Onto slightly less important topics (because what is more important than Padmé in a white crop top??): the introduction of Finn! I, personally, believe that even if Anakin didn't turn into Darth Vader, the First Order still would've risen. They would've modeled themselves after the Separatists, probably, and I - as a believer in fate - think that Finn would've ended up being one of them, anyway. He will still be saved. Poe and Rey will still save him. Ben will not lose his damn mind and ruin the happiness of this universe. Trust me.
> 
> Also, I am, in fact, Skysolo trash. I don't think I've ever shipped anyone more than I ship Han and Luke (wait, that's probably a lie), but I still wanted Ben in this fic. So, for the purposes of him being born, Han had to have gotten with Leia, at some point. Is it forever??? Probably not. But they were together, at least long enough to have a child together.
> 
> Similarly, I think Luke losing his hand was a huge moment in his life, and I do like to think that if he'd had his family during that time, they would've made the whole world regret it. We'll come back to this situation in later snippets; this one was just to show the easy shift from Anakin to Darth Vader. At least, I hoped it came out as easy as it seems in my head.
> 
> (Funny thing about my writing: I read most of it the way you read spoken word. That's why a lot of the sentences are run ons, and sometimes I'm super heavy on the analogies. But when I'm writing it, I write the way I think?? Like, that's why so many sentences are cut off and whatnot. I literally write everything out the way it comes to mind, then I fix it up and try to make it sound better. Anyway, maybe this will help you understand my writing better?? Idk???)
> 
> The thing I'm most unsure about, I think, is Anakin still being Sith?? He killed Dooku, and it's safe to say that Palp's crusty ass is dead. And, I mean, unless we count Jar Jar, Anakin is the last surviving Sith. So I'm thinking that the Sithiness sticks with him for the rest of his life, and it just lies dormant until he calls on it??? Or, more than likely, I am wrong. Either way, that will probably be the canon for this 'verse.
> 
> And, and: Han's thought process about Mamadala makes no sense now, but I have the background to that written up, too. If I do this right, it'll all make sense in the end.
> 
> Chapter five of this is written, and it's fluffy af. It is the exact opposite of this, and I will post that when I get home from school, but I had to post this one first because I have absolutely no chill, and sort of started freaking out at the prospect of having to rearrange the order of the non-linear moments I'm putting in my non-linear fic. Literally, wtf @me.
> 
> Also, y'all. Homies. Friends. Whatever happens in the season finale, I am here for you. I'm not watching it until I whether or not our queen lives (if she dies, I probably won't watch it anyway lol. I've never been so attached to a character ever, and if she dies, I will actually break down into tears). If you want to put in extra fluffy requests, or asks for a few chapters without Ahsoka angst, let me know, because I'm up for it. Or if you just want to scream at me on tumblr, or in the comments, I'm here for it.
> 
> It's three o'clock in the morning, and I have to be at school in, like, eight hours. rip me.


	5. the fluff we all deserved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin is Literally The Worst, Luke is everyone's favorite cinnamon roll, Leia is a queen, and it's about fucking time we were all happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soundtrack for this one: "home" cover by jasmine thompson
> 
> i meant to get this posted before the finale premiered, but i was out all day, and had a bunch of stuff to do when i came home. sorry this is late. i hope this makes you feel better anyway? Next chapter, we pick back up on the snippets of angst, but we all needed a bit of happiness, so here you go! Happiness galore!

**twenty-five.**

“Ahsoka!”

She isn’t at all prepared for the senator to launch herself into her arms, wrapping her arms tightly around her. “Senator Chuchi,” she exclaims in surprise, reflexively hugging the woman back. It’s been so long since she saw the Pantoran, she wasn’t even sure Riyo would remember her. In fact, she’d been sort of worried that she would look silly, accompanying Padmé to this meeting, all to see a woman she hadn’t laid eyes on in eight years.

She’s only sort of super kind of extremely maybe a little really happy that she was worried about nothing.

“It’s been so long,” Riyo says, pulling away from the hug, but grabbing Ahsoka’s hands. “When I heard about the bombing, I couldn’t believe they would accuse you of such a thing. I tried to defend you, truly, but they wouldn’t let me!”

“Senator Chuchi, it’s fine,” Ahsoka reassures her, smiling a bit dorkishly at her. “It was a bad circumstance for everyone. Thank you for believing in me.”

“I will _always_ believe in you,” Riyo promises, and Ahsoka definitely does _not_ blush. “I’m just so glad I get to see you again. You’ll stay, won’t you? I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Nope, still not blushing. “Of course, Senator.” _Ugh, wipe that stupid smile off your face, Ahsoka, you look ridiculous._

Someone clears their throat, drawing both girls’ attention. Senator Organa looks on with a knowing smile, Padmé grinning at his side. Ahsoka has this terrible feeling she’ll never hear the end of this. “I do hate to interrupt, ladies,” Senator Organa says, “but there’ll be a lot of time to chat after the meeting.”

Riyo nods, then turns back to Ahsoka. “Join me for dinner, Ahsoka. We can talk more, then.”

Caught off guard by it all, Ahsoka nods numbly. Riyo gives her a jubilant smile in return, then follows her fellow senators off towards the conference room. And Ahsoka—

Ahsoka is left with Anakin, who has the _biggest_ , _dumbest_ grin on his face. “ _You like Senator Chuchi,_ ” Anakin whispers conspiratorially.

“I do not,” she denies, glaring at him.

“Yes, you do!” He sounds entirely too gleeful, and she’s left to wonder how his seven year old daughter is more mature than him. “And you let me believe you liked _Bonteri._ ”

“Hey, I _never_ said that.” Lux was a dark time in her life, she can’t _believe_ he would mention that. “And you didn’t approve of Lux, anyway! You were all _purpose over feelings_ and stuff!”

He shrugs, not at all denying her claim. “Well, yeah, but I was only saying that because I didn’t like him. You could do so much _better_ than him, Snips! And you _are._ I never would’ve guessed you were into Senator Chuchi.”

She wonders if he ever guessed she was into girls. She certainly never got around to telling him, but he doesn’t seem too shocked or bothered by it. She’s a lot more grateful for that than she should be, probably. “I’m not,” she repeats, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s just a friend.”

“Yeah,” Anakin says. “Who you want to bang like a gong.”

She cannot believe this man was allowed to have children. He is a teenager in an adult's body. “Would you shut up? We have a job to do!”

“Looks like you have a lot to do.”

This is why she doesn’t tell him anything. “I’m walking away now,” she announces, heading towards the room the senators disappeared into.

But, of course, because he’s Anakin the Incorrigible™, her former master lets out a cheerful whoop as she walks away. “Get her, Snips!”

She honestly has no idea when everything in her life became so stupid.

* * *

**twenty-six.**

Obi-Wan knows, of course, that he isn’t actually Luke’s father. No one ever says it; in fact, everyone treats him as if he really is the boy’s other father, the way Luke believes him to be. But that doesn’t change reality. He knows he holds no sort of parental claim over the boy, and thus has no right to feel proud of him when he makes major accomplishments. That’s a right that only Anakin and Padmé have, with Leia being the only other exception. With no real relation to him, Obi-Wan isn’t allowed to feel too deeply for him, lest the attachment grow dangerous. Even if the Jedi Code is now different, that doesn’t change Obi-Wan’s upbringing. It doesn’t change all of his beliefs in the blink of an eye.

Even though he knows better than to be proud of Luke, he can’t really help it. The day the thirteen year old pulls him outside for an impromptu spar, and manages to disarm him for the first time, Obi-Wan feels it. He feels that same pride and affection he felt for Anakin and Ahsoka when they were children, just learning how to swing their lightsabers without almost poking themselves in the eyes.

He glances down at his weapon, lying too far away for him to grab with any sort of swiftness, then back to Luke, who smiles like the sun at something so small. Luke never looks happier than he does when he’s training; it comes as naturally to him as it did to his father. It brings him joy, Obi-Wan knows, to be able to fight for what he believes in, and to be considered a Jedi. He wants nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps, and Obi-Wan knows he’s well on his way.

Of course, if Obi-Wan wanted, he could use the Force to pull his weapon to him and take Luke out, in the span of two seconds. As a Jedi, it’s what he was taught to always think about. The distance between him and his lightsaber isn’t far enough to do anything but put him at a slight disadvantage, and it certainly isn’t enough to save Luke, should the need ever arise. And maybe Obi-Wan should say so. Maybe he should tell Luke not to celebrate so soon, the battle isn’t over.

But Obi-Wan—he can’t find it in himself to do that. So he just smiles at the youngling. “Well done, young Padawan.”

Luke’s smile is _blinding_ in that moment, and not a force in the galaxy could make Obi-Wan take his words back.

* * *

**twenty-seven.**

Padmé curls up on the couch, leaning her head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as they watch Anakin and Ahsoka entertain the twins.

She always loves watching them play. It isn’t that she doesn’t play with the kids, herself; it’s just that Anakin and Ahsoka have a certain energy that she can’t quite compete with, but matches the twins’ in a way she didn’t think was possible. The four of them seem to exist on the same wavelength, moving at a rhythm the rest of the galaxy is oblivious to. No one quite understands the twins like their father. They do, after all, have his ambition and his optimism. They have his smile and his confidence. They’re much more like him than even he knows, and it’s only served to bring them closer.

Maybe Padmé should feel jealous. Instead, all she feels is sentimental. Anakin kneels, bowing his head respectfully as Leia bestows her tiara on his head. Luke and Ahsoka make terrible background music, a cacophony of whistles and dramatic _dun duns_ , complete with a drum solo and everything. Leia announces her father as the new king of the entire galaxy, and Anakin automatically commands them all to bow.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Eighteen years later, and he’s still nine years old.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Padmé disagrees, shifting slightly. “He’s much happier now than he was then, don’t you think?”

Obi-Wan hums contemplatively, and she looks up at him. His eyes are fixed on Anakin, soft and warm and _longing._ She thinks back to the conversation they had once, when she’d confronted him on his feelings for Anakin. Since the twins’ birth, she’s sometimes wondered if he still felt the same as he did then; sometimes, she knows for a fact that he does.

She remembers once being envious of Obi-Wan. As much as he pines after Anakin, the younger man has always loved him with just as much fervor. Even if Obi-Wan doesn’t quite see it, and Anakin can’t work out his feelings, she knows. She knows the two of them too well to not pick up on something like that. And it used to hurt, knowing she had to compete with Obi-Wan for the love of her life. She used to wish him away, if only so that she could have a few moments alone with her Ani.

At some point, it changed. She doesn’t remember when, nor does she remember why, but she suddenly stopped trying to compete for Anakin’s affection. And somewhere along the way, she found herself rooting for Obi-Wan, too. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s this man. He isn’t perfect; he has just as many flaws as the next person, but he’s a good man. It’s been too long since he’s allowed himself to love, and she worries that if something that doesn’t happen, he’ll simply let himself live the rest of his life in solitude.

She won’t force her husband to make any declarations before he’s ready, but if he doesn’t do something soon, she might just end up declaring her undying love for Obi-Wan. Not that it’s too far out of the realm of possibility, anyway. The more time she spends with the man, the more she sees what Anakin loves so much about him, and the more she hates the thought of him being alone.

Regardless, she won’t push anything. Things will happen at their own pace, she knows. She just has to be patient.

Feeling her eyes on him, Obi-Wan pulls his eyes away from the quartet in front of them, and looks down at her. “And what’s that look for?”

Every bone in her body urges her to just tell him what she’s thinking, but she resists. She just shakes her head, and looks back to their family. Leia, apparently, has already overthrown the king. “That was fast.”

“Some people just aren’t meant to rule the galaxy,” Obi-Wan jokes, a small smile on his face as he watches Luke and Ahsoka tackle Anakin. “And she has quite the guard.”

“He never stood a chance.” Padmé stares at her husband as he allows himself to be restrained by a four year old and a twenty year old, another child laughing at his expense. He’s come a long way from where he was, she thinks fondly. Even if he made his mistakes along the way, he picked himself up, and created something beautiful out of his life. “When he fell,” she starts in a quiet tone, noting the way Obi-Wan tenses up beside her. “I was terrified. I didn’t know what to think. But I was so afraid, for myself and the kids. I couldn’t imagine a future where Anakin was a Sith Lord. Not a future we’d live through, anyway.”

“Neither could I,” Obi-Wan says. “But I don’t think that was a future any of us would survive. And it wasn’t one we were meant to live in.” He stops speaking, but she knows he isn’t done. She waits, and after a few moments: “I had this feeling, when it happened. I tried to reach Anakin, and all I felt was this incomparable _cold._ I told myself I would save him, but in truth, I feared I was too late. I thought…”

Padmé nods against his shoulder. “I did, too.” She never gave up hope on Anakin. For as long as she lives, she will have faith in her husband. But when she found out what he did, she had her doubts. “Thank you for saving him.”

“I wasn’t alone,” he reminds her, focusing his gaze on Ahsoka, as she forces Anakin to bow to his new queen. “I fear that if she hadn’t come with me, Anakin would’ve been lost forever.”

It isn’t that hard to believe. For all that the Jedi tried to warn them against attachments, Anakin loves so easily and so deeply. It didn’t take him very long for him to love his Padawan; there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her, even as a Sith Lord. If both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan hadn’t come back when they did, there’s no guarantee that Anakin would’ve ever come back to himself.

Padmé adds that to her list of thousands of reasons why she loves them.

Luke throws himself at his father, wrapping his arms around his neck and attacking him with a flurry of kisses. Anakin laughs, hugging his son close. Leia and Ahsoka both roll their eyes fondly at the boys, but continue to stand there like proud queens.

“We’re happy, aren’t we?” She doesn’t know why she’s asking. _She’s_ happy. She knows they’re happy. But for some reason, she just—she needs to hear it from him, too. “This family… this is good, right?”

Obi-Wan is quiet, and she’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s about as clueless as she is. Neither of them had a normal childhood, with parents and siblings and a small house. Luke and Leia are the only ones who really know what that’s like. The rest of them are learning, trying and failing, and Padmé can only _hope_ that they aren’t messing up too bad.

“It is,” Obi-Wan finally answers. “This is good. We’ve done well.”

His words calm her like a soothing balm, and the anxious knot in her stomach loosens significantly. “And?”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?”

His eyes move back to her, searching her face for something—she doesn’t know what. She holds his gaze, waiting patiently for an honest answer. Then, he nods. “Quite.” They both look back to the quartet on the floor. Anakin is kneeling in front of Ahsoka, who smirks down at him, with a hand rested on her cocked out hip. Luke imitates his father, and Leia stands just beside Ahsoka, watching them with more pleasure than she should. Later, Padmé might worry about the fact that her daughter is a blossoming dictator, but for now, she can’t be.

She’s just so happy.

The quartet all turn their gazes towards the pair on the couch, matching grins on all of their faces. “Come on, you two,” Ahsoka urges. “Women have finally taken over the galaxy. Padmé, you _know_ you want to be a part of this.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Ben,” Luke pipes up. “Daddy and I are staging a rebellion!”

Anakin’s eyes snap to his son, then he drops his head into his head. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone that, Luke.”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Anakin Skywalker, you’d better not try to teach our son how to _lie._ ” Padmé fixes her husband with a frosty glare, ignoring the _ooooh’_ s coming from the twins and Ahsoka. (Instigators, all of them.)

Anakin winces. “Of course not?” He looks to Obi-Wan with a pout. “Back me up here, Master.”

“Oh, no,” Obi-Wan says, sounding far too amused for his own good. “I’d love to see how you get yourself out of this one.”

Anakin’s shoulders drop. “I did not sign up for this.”

* * *

**twenty-eight.**

Leia likes the clones.

She’s grown up with them, after all. They’ve been in her life for as long as she can remember, joking with her dads and Ahsoka, bonding with her mother over their mutual exasperation for the tragedy that is Anakin Skywalker. They’ve always been there, babysitting her and Luke when no one else could, getting them out of trouble when it felt too risky to ask their parents or Ahsoka. 

In terms of family, the clones fall somewhere distinctly between her immediate family and the Jedi. Extended family, she would call them. She trusts them with her life, and wishes that she could’ve fought beside them in the war. What an honor that must’ve been. If she’s being honest, she’s always looked up to them, just as much as she looks up to her mother.

It’s why she’s here, really.

“You want me to teach you how to shoot?” Cody sounds incredulous, as if he doesn’t really believe his ears. She doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. They all knew she was planning on conquering the galaxy eventually, and she can’t do that if she doesn’t know how to take a single shot.

But it’s more than that, now. Ever since finding out about Ahsoka, it’s been more than that.

“My family went through something terrible in the war,” she explains. She keeps her voice steady, pushing away the sickness she feels at the very mention of it. “And so did you, and all of your brothers. You went through the unimaginable. And it took something from you. I’ve seen it—I’ve seen what it’s done to Ahsoka.”

Cody looks panicked for a moment, before his expression evens out. “I see. The Commander is still healing, then.”

She nods. Healing; that’s one word for it. “You, my parents, and Ahsoka all risked your lives to make the galaxy what it is today. I want to preserve that. I want to keep this galaxy in order; I want to keep it from ever becoming what it was.” She will never again let it fall to the darkness of war.

She will never again let it break someone the way it threatened to break Ahsoka.

“Shouldn’t you be asking the Jedi for training, then?”

It’s a valid question. As a Force-sensitive, she has the opportunity. Just like Luke is Yoda’s Padawan, she can be Father’s, or Papa’s, or Master Plo Koon’s. There’s so much she can do that other people her age cannot. She should take advantage. Yet, she won’t. It isn’t what she wants. So she shakes her head.

Some part of her seeks vengeance for what those people did to Ahsoka. Some part of her wants to paint the galaxy crimson, drowning evil in its own blood. She wants to rip apart every Separatist, every Sith, every Dark Side sympathizer, until they’re nothing more than a heap of scraps. She wants to make everyone hurt, the same way they’ve made Ahsoka and Leia’s parents all hurt. She wants her revenge, and she wants it _now._

But that’s not the way to do things. She knows that.

This is the right way. She’s thought of every single thing she could do, every way this could go, and this is the only way. This is what she wants to do.

“Say I teach you how to shoot,” Cody says. “Then what?”

Leia contemplates his question before answering. She has to be careful about this. If she says too much, too soon, someone might try to talk her out of it. They might put doubts in her head, make her second guess herself. And she can’t do that. “My father has agreed to teach me how to fly,” she replies, going for the most honest yet unrevealing answer she could think of.

But Cody isn’t a captain for nothing. He stares at her in surprise, before his expression shifts into something proud. “I see you have this all planned out, then.”

She nods. “I do.”

He smiles. “Alright. If it’s really what you want, I’ll teach you how to shoot.”

Her stiff muscles relax, if only marginally, and she gives him an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Of course, General.”

 _General?_ She rolls the title around her head a few times, trying to get a feel of it.

General Leia Skywalker.

She thinks she can get used to it.

* * *

**twenty-nine.**

Anakin doesn’t get a lot of moments to himself. With so many people in the house all at once, _all the time,_ there’s almost always someone around, and something he has to do.

He doesn’t mind, actually. He _likes_ keeping busy. When he’s alone for too long, the silence starts to get to him, and his mind goes to dark places. He starts to think back to all he’s lost, and all of the mistakes he’s made, and all of the things he _almost_ did. He thinks back to all of the times he’s failed, as a father and a husband and everything above, below, and in between. He starts to think of his mother and Qui-Gon, both taken away from him before they could really guide him through life.

When Anakin is left alone for too long, the sun seems so much dimmer, and the darkness seems just that much more overwhelming.

But it isn’t always that way. Sometimes, the silence is nice. Too much noise isn’t good, either. When it’s too nosy, he can’t hear his own thoughts, and he gets so _angry._ And he doesn’t mean to; he knows that it scares the others, but he can’t always help it. He can’t help the way he feels, can’t quite stop his heart from pounding the way it does. Sometimes, his heart damn near bursts from emotions so intense, he wasn’t even aware he was capable of feeling them.

It’s hard to find his happy medium. Too much quiet, he goes berserk; not enough quiet, he goes berserk. Sometimes, he gets so damn _angry_ with himself. No one should feel so intensely, or struggle to find peace the way that he does. It should be so much easier, except—except it isn’t.

There are moments, though, when things are perfect. Those slow moments when the day is just winding down, and the noise gradually fades. It’s the time that calms him the most, relaxing him just enough to get him through another few hours, before the cycle starts up again.

At twenty-four, he’s finally learned how to manage those moments.

His pen scratches lightly against the paper, and he glances up briefly to get a look at exactly where Ahsoka’s head rests on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The man is weighed down by two ten month old twins and a seventeen year old girl, and somehow managed to fall asleep anyway. The absolute serenity of his expression is something Anakin never thought he’d live to see. He looks safer and surer of himself than he’s ever been, and Anakin allows himself to smile, before going back to his drawing.

He’s just finishing up shading Leia’s hair, when he feels arms wrap around his shoulders. “I thought it was too quiet down here.”

Anakin snorts, not taking his eyes off of his picture. “It’s not too quiet. You’d know if it was too quiet.”

Padmé hums, and he takes momentary comfort in the feeling of her arms, and the sound of her voice. So rarely are they alone these days; he’s almost forgotten what it’s like. “You haven’t drawn in a long time,” she remarks.

“I haven’t had the inspiration.”

“And you have it now?”

Anakin glances up at the four on the couch. Ahsoka, sleeping soundly, no nightmares daring to bother her with Obi-Wan around. Luke and Leia, curled up with two of their favorite people in the whole world. Obi-Wan, out like a light, without a care for what turmoil the galaxy could find itself in while he takes a nap.

And Padmé, smiling softly and contently at him, as if she already knows the answer.

Yeah, he thinks. He has it, now.

* * *

**thirty.**

“Mommy! Mommy, wake up!”

Padmé lets out a small groan, willing herself to open her eyes. She rarely ever has nights that allow her to get more than a few hours of sleep, but when she came home from her meeting last night, her husband had instantly ordered her off to bed. The mother in her wanted to check on the twins first, and make sure that they were safe and in bed, but the rest of her was just far too exhausted to do anything other than collapse into bed. Now that she’s had time with her bed, she isn’t quite willing to let go.

But Luke won’t stop until she’s up. And if he doesn’t succeed, he’ll just send in Leia.

Luke has _nothing_ on Leia.

She peels her eyes open, and smiles when her son’s beaming face comes into focus. “Hi, sweetie. What time is it?”

“Breakfast time,” Luke declares. “Well, almost. Soka said to wake you up ’cause it’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

Padmé nods and pushes herself up. Once she’s sitting, she places a hand on her son’s cheek. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Leia took him to get Uncle Ben. We can’t have breakfast unless everyone’s here!”

The fact that Anakin woke up before her probably says something about her work habits, but she’s a lot less worried about that, and a lot more worried about why the kids are suddenly instating family breakfasts. It’s not as if they don’t have them frequently already; it’s just never been this important. “Why is that? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Mommy,” Luke promises. He climbs onto her lap, and gives her a big kiss. “Soka says I can’t ruin the surprise. But when you’re done getting ready, you gotta come down for breakfast!”

That’s only slightly reassuring, but she doesn’t say so. At this age, Luke is cheerful enough to always believe that everything is okay, even when it couldn’t be further from the truth. She doesn’t want to make him doubt himself or his beliefs by showing any outward signs of concern, so she smiles at him and gets out of bed. He scurries back to the kitchen, and she makes her way to the bathroom.

By the time she comes out, Anakin and Obi-Wan have arrived, and the two of them are in the kitchen with Ahsoka and the twins. Leia sits on a stool, swinging her legs and rambling about something, all while Anakin braids flowers into her hair. It’s taken him a while, but it seems like he’s finally getting the hang of doing hair. Luke and Ahsoka stand at the table, divvying food up and onto the plates, the former talking his sister-aunt’s ear off. Obi-Wan sits on the chair next to Leia, listening to her story with mild interest.

Thankfully, everything seems to be in order.

“Mommy,” Leia cheers, smiling when she walks in. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Leia. Good morning, everyone.”

“It’s time,” Luke declares happily. “Mommy, Daddy, sit down! We gotta start now!”

Padmé exchanges glances with Anakin and Obi-Wan, not really surprised to find that they don’t know anything, either. Once all of the adults are seated with plates in front of them, the twins and Ahsoka stand at the head of the table. Ahsoka smiles down at the kids. “Leia, you want to start?”

The six year old nods, putting on her Queen of Everything face as she looks to the adults. “Luke, Soka, and I have been thinking,” she begins, “and we decided that we really, really love you.”

“That’s a relief,” Anakin says, garnering a somewhat amused, somewhat disapproving look from Obi-Wan.

Padmé thinks she should worry about the fact that her children are deciding whether or not to love her, but she’s mostly wondering why the topic ever came up, and where they’re going with it. “Okay,” she says, hoping the kids will focus on her confusion rather than Anakin’s sarcasm.

“And because you’re the best parents in the whole _galaxy_ ,” Luke emphasizes, “we wanted to do something special for you! And Soka thought food would be fun. And it was! We got up _really early,_ and we cooked for hours!”

Padmé has no idea how she missed that. Just how tired was she?

“It’s just something to say thank you,” Ahsoka tells them, drawing the adults’ attention up to her. “We’re really lucky to have you three. And we realize that it’s not always easy dealing with us; you’re all exhausted, _all the time_ , and we know that having to worry about us doesn’t help. But you do it anyway, so we wanted to show that we appreciate it. You take care of us, even though you don’t have to. And that means a lot to us.”

“Actually,” Leia cuts in, “you _do_ have to take care of us. You really don’t have a choice in the matter.”

The trio of adults all find themselves smiling, both at Leia’s attitude, and at the kids’ declaration. Ahsoka grins at the girl, then turns her attention back to the adults. “The twins came up with the idea to make it an annual thing. So on this day, every year, we can celebrate Parents’ Day.”

The senator meets Anakin’s gaze, then Obi-Wan’s; they’re all a bit speechless, which is ridiculous. It’s her job to always know what to say, Obi-Wan is a renowned negotiator, and Anakin is the Hero Without Fear, the man who always has a bit of sass in his tool belt. Yet, none of them know what to say when their children say thank you.

“And you don’t have to go to work, either,” Luke exclaims. “Leia can be a senator, and Soka and I can be Jedi!”

Padmé blinks, then looks to Ahsoka. The young woman winces. “We’re still working out those details. But I did manage to get you all off of work for the day. If you want to spend it with us, you’re welcome to. Or if you want to go out and get away from us, you can do that, too. At the expense of breaking poor Luke’s heart, of course,” she adds with a pointed look to the boy.

To prove her point, Luke crumples to the ground dramatically, spreading his body out with a hand to his chest. “I’m _dead_ ,” he announces, head turned away from them. “All because Mommy, Daddy, and Uncle Ben don’t love me anymore.”

Filled with dreamlike euphoria, Padmé laughs, free in a way she rarely ever is. “I think a day with you sounds perfect.”

Luke springs back up to life. “I’ve been revived!” He runs to the table, leaping into Anakin’s lap. “Isn’t that great, Daddy? I’m alive again!”

“It’s the greatest, buddy,” Anakin says with a grin. “I missed you.”

Obi-Wan smiles down at the young boy, then to the other two. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“Of course we did,” Leia agrees. “You can’t create a holiday without it being perfect, Uncle Ben. Especially when it’s for the most important people in your life.”

Padmé would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a bit emotional. It’s not like her to be so overcome with love and affection that she actually starts to _cry_ , but she feels herself reaching that point. It’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t start weeping by the end of this breakfast.

“I think you’re about to make your mom cry,” Ahsoka laughs, though not unkindly. “Why don’t we start cleaning up while they eat?”

The twins nod, Luke grabbing his sister’s hand as they he drags her into the kitchen. Ahsoka sends the adults another smile, then follows after the children at a much calmer pace. Padmé watches her leave, her beating heart feeling too big for her body. She doesn’t know whether to smile or cry or commit the entire event to memory, and her brain is too fuzzy for her to make a decision.

She worries so much for those kids. For Leia, who is just a tad bit too mature for her age; for Luke, who sees the world in technicolor, through kaleidoscopic eyes; for Ahsoka, who carries so much on her shoulders, and still hasn’t learned how to lighten her own burden. She worries for them, fears that they’ll grow up to be hurt and angry and bitter, fears that they may not grow up at all. She worries that she works so much, it takes too much time away from them; she worries that they’ll forget her face, and she’ll lose her entire world. She worries, all the time, that she’s not doing her best with them, and she doesn’t know _what_ to do.

But this puts her heart at ease. She’s not a perfect mother, she knows. None of them are perfect, in any sense of the word. But if there’s one thing she, Anakin, and Obi-Wan have all done right, it’s raise those kids.

They may not live in a perfect world, but she’s content to know that her kids are alright. Her family is alright, and that’s all she could ever ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I didn't watch the season two finale, but I know enough about it, and it was pretty brutal. I'm sorry for those of you who watched it and were honestly hurt and upset by some of the things that happened. If you want someone to ignore canon with you, ya girl's got your back.
> 
> I know there are some people who've requested certain snippets, and they haven't shown up yet, but they will, I promise! I'm trying to write out the ones that I already had planned first, then the ones that were requested, kind of in the order than they were requested.
> 
> I want to share something with you guys, actually. It's a piece of a comment left on the last chapter (and I sWEAR I WILL REPLY TO THOSE, I'M SO BEHIND), but it actually very accurately sums up what I want to say, so:
> 
> "...the great thing about stories, whether they're "official" canon or fanfic, is that regardless of whether the creator or a fan is writing the story it belongs (in part) to the reader. It can end and begin wherever you want it to, and if you don't like a certain plot point, it doesn't have to be true."
> 
> I laughed when I read this; not because it was funny, but because this is actually exactly what I was thinking before this comment was posted. I meant to put it on the last chapter, but when you post things at three o'clock in the morning, you tend to miss things. But what I'm saying, and what this person is saying, is basically this: if you don't like something that happens in a fic/show/movie, you are more than welcome to ignore it. I do it literally all the time. Sure, there are some things that happen that you Decidedly Do Not Like that are necessary evils, but most... are not? It's a lot harder to ignore things that happen in canon, because writers and producers base everything that happens off of the things that happened previously. With fanfiction, though, you're allowed to pick and choose what you want to accept. If you dislike the whole thing, you're allowed to click the back button, and pretend you never read it. If you don't like a section, you're allowed to pretend it doesn't exist. As the reader, that's your prerogative.
> 
> I bring this up, because it especially applies to this fic. I said before that this fic is for all of you, and I really meant that. This isn't just my ideal SW world, it's yours, too. That's why I ask for prompts, and things. This is the world we all wanted out of SW, and it should be something that we all like. That's why I make the beginnings and endings of the snippets rather ambiguous. Some of them are very clear, yes. But there are others that just end after one of the characters says something; it's up to you where it goes after that. These are just brief moments in the life of this family; what happens before and after, that's up to you. If you think Character A exited immediately after Character B said the thing, that's what happened. If you think they both stuck around for a little while longer, then dipped after a few drinks and a quickie, you can bet your sweet bippy that's what went down. Or, if you don't like the sitch, it didn't happen at all.
> 
> A lot of this 'verse is up to interpretation. I've left it purposely ambiguous, so that your imagination has room to run wild. For those of you who've read "gravity" (which I'm updating rIGHT NOW, I PROMISE), you've seen my notes. I pre-think, think, re-think, and _over_ think every single thing I write. Yes, I make oversights. I'm only human. But for this, a lot of those things that are like "did this thing happen immediately after this thing?" Well, maybe. That's up to you.
> 
> Anyway, last thing; funny thing. When I first got the idea for this story, it was only two chapters, eighteen snippets. It had four angsty pieces, and fourteen fluffy, happy ones. It started with the snippet I used for number one, and ended with the one I used for thirty. That was supposed to be the entire length of the story, then I would close the book on it. Then people actually liked the story, so I was like, "holy cheese, maybe I should just expand the 'verse??" So I did, but I was worried that I wouldn't get around to ever posting eighteen/thirty, since it was made to be the very last piece of this fic. And I was super anxious about it, because I wanted to post it at the right time, but in light of the finale, I think it's only fitting.
> 
> I really do hope you guys found some joy in this mess of a story I'm writing. I'm sorry if you're hurting, and I hope I can help. As usual, feel free to talk to me on tumblr, or in the comments. I hope you all have wonderful weeks, and I'll see you when I see you!


	6. stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka gets a few of the hugs she deserves, Leia comes to a few realizations, and Anakin's mind is even less coherent after dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @me: don't be a bitter bitch  
> me: *not only continues to be a bitter bitch, but grows progressively bitterer and bitchier*
> 
> Sorry this took a while. I broke my routine of updating this almost every other day, _and_ I missed an update for "gravity". It's just been a rough few days, and I needed to take a few days to get myself together, and things. As stated above, I have spent approx. my entire life being a bitter bitch, and it just got ridiculous this past week. So I had to step back and find my chill and here's what I got. In that time, I also started/continued working on my 2915823592 other ideas, so that's happening, I guess.
> 
> I won't be updating "gravity" today, because I want to stay on track, so I'll just update it tomorrow (Wednesday). To make up for my being a generally crappy person, this chapter is extra long. **this chapter has 8k words.** if long chapters bother you, i do recommend reading it in separate sittings. the snippets themselves aren't very long, but there are eight of them, and they all vary in length.
> 
> most of the snippets in this chapter directly connect to the events in chapter four. if you missed that update, or you cannot remember what happened there, i suggest going back to at least glimpse over that one, just so you aren't confused. or, if you'd rather not, that's up to you.
> 
> soundtrack: promises by jhene aiko. even if you don't listen to it for this story, i just recommend it, in general??? it's one of my absolute favorite songs, and it's just beautiful and wonderful.

**thirty-one.**

Han doesn’t know why he talked himself into doing this. Chewie is the only normal part of his life, and he has absolutely no doubt that meeting the Skywalker clan will change that. They have some sort of mysterious power that turns everything they touch into a gigantic headache. People, places, inanimate objects—you name it, they’ve probably wrecked it.

He would know. He’s not exempt.

But — even so. He’s gotten used to the Skywalkers. As someone who’s never had a family of his own, they’re the closest he’s ever gotten, and that means more to him than he’s ever going to say. They’ve become an important part of his life, and since Chewie is _the_ most important person in his life, it only makes sense that they all know each other.

At least, that’s what he was thinking when he told Chewie to come over. Now, he’s seriously regretting his life choices.

Luke smiles brightly up at them, and Han can tell that he’s just barely resisting the urge to throw himself at him. The boy was respectful of Han’s need for space at first, but eventually stopped caring, and started glomping him whenever he felt like it. It’s probably for Chewie’s sake that Luke isn’t hanging off of Han’s neck right now, and the Corellian suddenly doesn’t feel so bad about bringing his best friend. “Come in,” the eleven year old urges them cheerfully. “Mom and Papa are making lunch.”

Han and Chewbacca follow the excited pre-teen into the kitchen, where — predictably — chaos has erupted. Leia and Anakin are fighting each other, alternating between yelling and giggling and throwing food at each other. Padmé and Obi-Wan are trying to scold the two children, moving fluidly throughout the kitchen as they try to prepare lunch. Han has no idea what they’re trying to make, but he’s pretty sure it’s not worth the trouble of dealing with Anakin and Anakinette when they’re like this.

“Mom, Han’s here,” Luke announces, bringing all attention to him. “And he brought a friend!”

“Oh,” Padmé exclaims, pausing to blink at Chewbacca, her hands slightly wet _._ “Hi. This… we’re not usually like this.”

“Yes, you are,” Han says. “The first time I came to your house, it looked almost exactly like this. It’s almost _always_ like this.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Anakin teases, in a surprisingly good mood. “Are you going to introduce your friend?”

If Han were a better person, and if the Skywalkers actually deserved him being a better person, he would. But considering he’s _him_ and they’re _them_ — “I’m thinking about just taking him and leaving.”

Chewie scoffs. “You don’t have anywhere to go.”

Anakin snorts, and Han throws his friend a half-hearted glare. So much for loyalty. He glances around the kitchen again, noticing Ahsoka’s absence. “Where’s the last one?”

“It’s possible she’s still asleep,” Obi-Wan answers, reaching around Padmé to grab a rag to dry his hands. “She didn’t come in until early this morning.”

“What does she even _do?_ ”

“Why do you need to know,” Ahsoka interjects, walking into the room. “Miss me when I’m gone?”

Han almost laughs. Before he can come up with a retort, Chewbacca takes a step forward. “Ahsoka?”

Realizing that he hasn’t done his job yet, Han clears his throat. “Right. Uh, this is—”

“Chewbacca!”

Han jumps back as Ahsoka throws her arms around his best friend, hugging him tightly. She has this smile on her face that Han has never seen before, embracing Chewie like she doesn’t plan to let go any time soon. “How’d you guess,” Han says dryly. Despite his sarcasm, he is wondering how they know one another. He certainly doesn’t remember them ever mentioning each other.

Anakin leans forward slightly, staring intently at Chewie. “Whoa,” he mutters. “You’re that kid from all those years ago, aren’t you? I didn’t even recognize you!”

Han looks between them all, trying not to feel offended at how much he _doesn’t_ know. He must be spending too much time with Luke, because he sort of feels a pout pulling at his lips. “You all know each other already?”

“Not all of us,” Anakin says. “But we met a long time ago. He and Ahsoka…” He trails off, keeping his eyes on Ahsoka, who is finally pulling away from Chewbacca. “They have a special history.”

Later, Han’s going to ask. He wants to know what history they have, and why he hasn’t heard of it. He wants to know why they haven’t been together all these years, if they were close before. He wants to know, because they’re both important to him, but for now—

For now, he’s just glad he doesn’t have to go through awkward introductions.

* * *

**thirty-two.**

It seems like every time Anakin loses himself, Ahsoka is the one to face him. She desperately wishes Obi-Wan were here, the way he was last time, but she’s also glad that he isn’t.

She doesn’t think he’d react too well to seeing this.

“Anakin,” she calls to her former Master, her voice sounding strained. “That’s enough. It’s over.”

Yellow eyes snap up to her, and she resists the urge to flinch. It’s been eighteen years since their battle that day, but it still haunts her, sometimes. She still remembers the things he said, and the way he glared at her. She still remembers the way his expression morphed from anger to unimaginable pain as his body finally registered the loss of a limb. She remembers the way he attacked her after that, desperate and full of abhorrence, moving with the intention of killing her.

Eighteen years, and she still remembers everything.

Eighteen years, and it still scares her sometimes.

Anakin has slipped since then, she knows. Padmé and Obi-Wan don’t mention it, but the kids have told her about it. The way that he sometimes loses his temper, and the blue of his eyes fades to a gruesome yellow. It’s always temporary, Leia was quick to reassure her. His eyes are always blue again, in just a few minutes, but there are times when he isn’t quite himself, anymore. There are moments when they don’t know who he is, and it _scares them._

Ahsoka is never there for those moments, and she thinks it’s a deliberate thing, though not on her part. Obi-Wan and Padmé know that she’s still haunted by those memories, and they’re trying to protect her from reliving them. She’s thirty-four years old, and they’re still trying to protect her. She makes a mental note to thank them later.

It looks like she has to face her fears now.

She takes slow steps towards him, ignoring the slick of blood beneath her feet. “It’s okay,” she promises. She’s close to him now. With a shaking hand, she reaches for his lightsaber. Her fingers graze the back of his hand, and he tightens his grip. Taking the hint, she stops the advances, but doesn’t pull away. “It’s over, Anakin. They’re—they’re dead. There’s no one to fight anymore.”

“He escaped,” Anakin growls. “One of them managed to escape.”

“He’ll be caught,” Ahsoka vows, though she doesn’t know that for sure. “He won’t get far.”

“ _They cut his hand off,_ ” Anakin snarls, his breaths coming out shallow and rugged. If he had any control left, he’s losing it now—and _fast._ “They cut Luke’s hand off, Ahsoka—they could’ve killed him.”

Ahsoka nods, unable to deny the truth of his words. “Luke’s going to be okay. I took him to the hospital. He’s going to be fine, Anakin. You don’t have to—”

He growls at her, deep and threatening, and she starts to pull away. She’s an adult now; she’s no longer that sixteen year old girl, staring into the eyes of a monster she used to call friend, but she’s still so _scared._ She’s still afraid of what he may do, and what she may have to do.

Anakin is, somehow, her biggest fear and her best friend. He’s forever standing on that precipice, and she hasn’t quite figured out what keeps him plunging completely into the darkness. She just hopes she can help.

She strengthens her resolve, and wraps both of her hands around the one of Anakin’s. She feels his grip tighten, but doesn’t look away from his eyes. She can’t run away from this. She can’t run away from _him_. If she does, who’s going to save him? Padmé and Obi-Wan could, she’s sure; but they aren’t here right now. They can’t help, so it’s up to her.

She’s going to bring him back, without hurting him. She has to.

“Go away,” Anakin breathes through gritted teeth, his entire body quaking. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ahsoka. _Go away._ ”

“I won’t.” The words come out before she can think it through, but she doesn’t regret it. She isn’t going anywhere. Not this time. Isn’t walking away what started this? If she hadn’t left that first time, maybe she could’ve prevented his change. It’s much too late to be thinking that way again, she knows, but it sort of helps. It isn’t as much of a crutch as it once was; it doesn’t hurt to think about, anymore. It’s a reminder, now, that she has a family. She has people who need her, and that’s all she needs to know. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Something shutters in his eyes, and she sees the yellow dimming. “I couldn’t protect him. My only son, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t do _anything._ ”

“You’re wrong,” she says with confidence. “You did protect him. They would’ve done much worse if you hadn’t been here, Anakin. If you hadn’t been here…” The list of things that could’ve happened to Luke is too long and too disgusting to think about right now. “You saved him, Anakin.”

His eyes are finally blue again, she notices with repressed joy. “His hand…”

“That’ll heal,” she promises. “You know it will. You survived getting your arm sliced off _twice._ And Luke’s the son of the strongest people in the galaxy. He’ll be fine in no time.”

Anakin holds her gaze for another moment, before his shoulders sag. His eyes drop to the carnage around them, and he flinches. It isn’t regret that makes the sight repulsive, she knows. Rather, it’s the lack thereof. “Ahsoka…”

She presses the button on his lightsaber, watching as the light disappears. She hooks it onto her belt, then looks around for Luke’s. Upon finding it, she extracts it from the bloody mess it’s sitting it, and latches it onto her belt, as well. She turns her attention back to Anakin, who hasn’t pulled his eyes from the ground yet. “Master,” she finds herself murmuring, stepping towards him. She lifts a hand to reach for him, but pauses. What does she do now?

Anakin, thankfully, isn’t as lost as she is. He reaches out for her, pulling her into a warm embrace. She’s only momentarily surprised by the hug, but returns it without hesitation. Anakin shakes in her arms, and she thinks—no, she _knows_ that she’s the only thing holding him up right now. She’s the only thing that’s keeping him from falling apart, when the rest of the world is shaking and shifting. “Thanks, Snips,” he whispers after a few moments.

“For what?”

“Staying,” he replies easily, tightening his hold just slightly.

Ahsoka feels a dull pang of guilt, and smiles against his shoulder. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m not going anywhere, Skyguy.”

* * *

**thirty-three.**

FN-2187 knows he’s going to be in trouble.

He watches as the Jedi escapes with the three kids FN-2187 was supposed to be protecting, and he knows that Phasma won’t be happy about this. She’s one of the newest commanders, but she’s the harshest one. She knows his shooting capabilities, knows how unlikely it is for him to miss, not once, but _twice._ She’ll know he’s lying, and he’ll be punished.

They won’t kill him. The First Order is still in the making, and they can’t afford to lose anyone yet. He’s only nine, but he’s one of the best shooters in his class. He’s too valuable for them to give up just yet. In a few years, he might get killed for his actions. But for now, he’s confident in his survival.

He’s still going to be in trouble, though. Whatever they do to him, it won’t be pleasant.

FN-2187 knows he’s going to be in trouble, but he doesn’t regret his decision. RN-2412 (Red), MI-5099 (Monster), and HK-1317 (simply, HK) are all little kids. FN-2187 has been here his whole life, and he knows—he knows this isn’t a life made for little kids. He doesn’t know what will happen now that they’re with the Jedi, but it can’t possibly be any worse than what would have happen if they stayed here.

They’re going to be safe, he tells himself. He isn’t supposed to save his comrades, the generals always tell him, but he had to. He doesn’t want anyone living the same life he does. It’s too painful, too oppressive, too _much_. Even if he only saved three people, that’s enough.

Maybe those three people will come back and save more of them.

The Jedi’s words echo in his brain, saying, “ _We will come back for you,_ ” as if it’s irrefutable. And FN-2187 isn’t supposed to hope for anything, but he hopes—he hopes that the man keeps his promise. He doesn’t have faith in anything, but he wants to believe that he will be saved one day.

Until that day comes, though, he’ll do what he has to in order to survive. That’s all he _can_ do.

* * *

**thirty-four.**

When they were three years old, Luke got lost in the wilderness of some planet she no longer remembers the name of. Their dad and Ahsoka had to go there for some business — Jedi and Fulcrum, respectively — and had agreed to let them tag along, so long as they didn’t cause any trouble, or wander off.

Luke, of course, didn’t listen. Father, Ahsoka, and Leia were all listening intently to what the planet’s leader had to say, and had failed to notice the boy waddling off. By the time Leia noticed her brother was missing, he’d left the building _and_ walked right into the jungle.

The next few hours are a blur to her now, but Leia remembers the way they all panicked. They looked for her brother for hours, but couldn’t find him anywhere. The only comfort came from the fact that they could feel him through the Force. If anything had happened to him, they would’ve felt it — Leia, most of all. But he was perfectly fine. Missing, anyway, but still unharmed.

To cut a long sob story short, he finally wandered back to them around dawn—on the back of a wolf. Leia will never understand how he did it, but he’d wrapped the beast around his finger, and then convinced their father to take it home with them.

They ended up keeping the wolf, and named her Maeve.

They had to get rid of her a few months later, after she’d attacked someone on the street. Leia doesn’t remember the details of the incident, but she remembers how upset her brother was. He spent days mourning over the loss of his friend, sometimes making himself sick from crying so hard. It took him a while to bounce back from the loss, but the entire situation was enlightening for Leia. She was attached to Maeve, too, but hadn’t mourned nearly as much as her brother. She’d gotten over the loss after a day or two, but Luke cried and cried for the better part of a week. No one really knew what to do with him for a while, and it opened Leia’s eyes.

Her brother loved so deeply, and it hurt him, whenever he lost something. It was something that Leia always loved about him, but it sort of scared her, then.

They were eight years old when Luke figured out what Leia had known for a while.

Uncle Ben wasn’t their uncle. Leia had picked up on a few clues over the months, and eventually managed to put the pieces together. He was much closer to a second dad than an uncle — and, if the looks her three parents exchanged were anything to go by, it wouldn’t be long before that was _exactly_ what he was.

The discovery had been a bit shocking for Leia, but she had quickly gotten over it. Even if he wasn’t her uncle anymore, she knew he would always be in her life. Blood didn’t make family; Ahsoka was proof of that. Even at eight years old, Leia would’ve fought anyone who said otherwise. Because Ahsoka was — _is_ — family, and Ben was no different. Even if the lines were blurred, they were still family, and she was okay with that. So she tucked the piece of information into the corners of her mind, and moved on.

It wasn’t that easy for Luke.

It tormented him for _weeks_. The lack of certainty drove him to tears, and he started losing sleep over it. He was so confused and hurt, and had somehow gotten it into his head that the best thing he could do would be to hide it. When she finally asked him what was on his mind, he burst into tears, telling her how _weird_ everything was, and how he didn’t know _anything_ anymore, and he just wanted his Uncle Ben, no matter _who_ he was.

Leia told Luke all she knew — Ben had been Daddy’s friend for a really long time, and he was kind of another dad, except _not._ She didn’t know what he was, exactly, but he was still in their lives. He would always be in their lives, she promised her sniffling brother.

Luke hugged her really tight, and slept in her bed that night. It was the first time in almost a month that he really slept, but Leia—she _couldn’t_ sleep.

She wanted to believe that her brother was just overreacting again. He had a way of doing that, and always at the worst times. He exaggerated and got upset over every little thing, always making a big deal of things that weren’t all that important. But this wasn’t the same, she knew. This wasn’t him throwing a tantrum over losing a game, or spilling his juice on his clothes. That, he would get over in a few hours; a day, at the most.

But this and the thing with Maeve? It took him _weeks._ Grief and confusion made him physically ill, driving his body to its limits as he tried to cope with the situation.

Once, she wondered if it was truly something to worry about. She thought of mental conditions that her brother might’ve had, but discarded them all quickly. If he had them, she didn’t want to know. Not yet, at least. Later, she would do more extensive research, but at the time, she wouldn’t have known what to do with that knowledge. And, in the end, it didn’t really matter. Because, truly, she already knew what she needed to know.

There have always been differences between the two of them. They’re always clumped together into one vague term — “the twins” — but they’re not the same people. Luke is sweet and naïve, where Leia is sarcastic and critical. Luke is pure and optimistic, where Leia is angry and often a realist. Luke notices things at his own pace, where Leia has to know things as soon as she can.

Luke, she realized, needed to be protected.

Maybe that was what had so easily tamed Maeve all those years ago: the knowledge that this boy, with the bright smile and the glittering eyes and the contagious laughter, couldn’t possibly protect himself in this galaxy. He only saw the good in people, and couldn’t handle loss or change. Even now, at fifteen years old, he still can’t.

Don’t get her wrong; Luke is strong. Not just in the physical sense, either. He trains with the Jedi Knights on a daily basis, but that isn’t what she means. He’s strong emotionally, in a way that Leia isn’t. Yes, he whines a lot, and he’s about as dramatic as he can get, but he always finds a way to smile again. He never let peoples’ words hurt him, and he doesn’t let his past mistakes and pains slow him down. He always moves forward, even when the rest of the world needs a moment to pull itself together. Like the sun, Luke always rises, even after their darkest nights.

Luke is the brightest light in Leia’s life, and she will do _anything_ to protect him.

A few months after their fifteenth birthday, she finds herself trying to dress up for Han. It’s never happened before. Luke may have inherited their mother’s fashion sense, but Leia isn’t so bad at coordinating outfits, herself. She always looks her best, which is why it surprises her when she finds herself thinking which dress _Han_ would like most.

As if she’s ever cared what _Han_ would like. Belatedly, she realizes that she _does_ care. She always cares.

About a year later, after she’s sort of kind of already kissed the object of her apparent affections, she finally puts all of the pieces together, and she barges into her brother’s room to tell him the news. Luke doesn’t seem too surprised at her declaration. He still grins at her, excited and overcome with joy, but he looks like he’s been expecting this. He babbles her ear off about how she should go about winning Han over, even though he _obviously_ already likes her, but what should she wear, maybe the blue? He rambles on, dragging her back to her room to dig through her closet, but she can’t focus on that.

Why isn’t he surprised? There’s no way he knew, right? _She_ didn’t even know how she felt about Han until a few minutes ago. She’s surprised at her own news, but Luke isn’t. His excitement is real, she knows, but he’s hiding something. He’s hiding something and she _hates_ when he does that. Whenever he tries to hide, he ends up hurting himself. And, honestly, doesn’t he trust her?

“Leia?” Her twin waves a hand in front of her face. “You with me?”

“Did you know?”

Luke stills, and that’s all the answer she needs. “Lei—”

“ _You knew,_ ” she whispers in disbelief. “And you weren’t even going to tell me?”

“I can’t tell you how you feel, Leia,” he says. “You wouldn’t have believed me until you felt it for yourself.”

She can’t really argue with him there. If anyone tried to tell her that she had feelings for Han Solo, she probably would’ve shot them in the face for insulting her like that. But it doesn’t change the fact that Luke figured something out before she did, and didn’t even share it with her. She remembers the night she found out about Ahsoka’s post-traumatic stress disorder — he knew first then, too. He hid it then, too.

Now that she knows that he’s been hiding things, she knows what to look for. She stares at him with scrutiny, searching his eyes for something she’s missed before. After a moment, Luke starts to shift, and it’s a dead giveaway. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” he denies too quickly. “That’s all.”

“You’re lying. Luke, what is it?”

“ _Nothing._ ”

“ _Luke!_ ”

“Look, Leia, I’m happy for you, okay,” he blurts, taking a step back from her. “Isn’t that enough?”

Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you be happy for me?” Any sibling would be, right? She likes someone who, it seems, likes her back — what is there not to be happy about? “Luke, why wouldn’t you be happy for me?”

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Luke murmurs, trying to walk past her.

She blocks his path. “Luke, stop. Answer me. Why wouldn’t you be happy?” She thinks of her twin, and tries to figure it out for herself. If it were anyone _but_ Luke, why wouldn’t they be happy? The relationship could turn out bad, but considering it’s Leia and Han, that’s not exactly a valid fear. He could be jealous, but of whom? Certainly not of Han. And he isn’t—

Is he?

 _Stars._ “You like him, too,” she realized, feeling horribly nauseous. “You like him.”

Leia knows her brother like she knows her own mind. He’s the kindest, most altruistic person to ever live in this galaxy. Everything he does is for the benefit of those around him, and he never cares about what it could mean for himself. He’s always putting himself in the line of fire for the benefit of those he loves. He allows his name to slandered, allows himself to be looked down on, just so that their family doesn’t have to suffer. He holds in painful secrets, so as to not burden anyone else with them.

And he hid how he felt, just so that she wouldn’t disregard her own feelings. He’d figured out how she felt — _long_ before she did — and silently resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be with the boy he was crushing on. He’d pushed Han and Leia together, grinned at the news of Leia’s crush and their kiss, and he’d—he’d pretended to be fine.

He was just helping her prepare to win the heart of the guy he likes.

Leia thinks she’s going to be sick.

She doesn’t know how long he’s known how she felt, or how long he’s felt this way. She wonders how many nights his heart has ached in pain and longing, and how many times he smiled at them all, lying and telling them that he was fine. She wonders how many times he blocked himself from the Force, so that she wouldn’t feel the pain that threatened to rip him apart. She wonders how he picked up on something so infinitesimal within her, she hadn’t even noticed it, but she failed to notice something so _big_ happening with him.

She wonders how long Luke — the brightest light in her life, the one she’s sworn to protect to her very last breath — has been protecting her, at the cost of his own happiness.

She wonders how she didn’t notice.

* * *

**thirty-five.**

Ahsoka shudders in his arms, and Anakin bites his tongue to keep from saying something unhelpful. She’s stopped crying, but still isn’t calmed down enough to hear anything he has to say. Not that he necessarily needs to say anything, as he’s learned.

The first time this happened with Ahsoka, he had no idea of what to do. He, Padmé, and Obi-Wan had looked back and forth between each other, panicked and out of their depth. She had backed herself into a corner, her back pressed stark against the wall as she hyperventilated, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d reacted well to his touch, but that was about as far as they got, for a while. He searched for every comforting thing to say, telling her whatever he thought would make her feel better. In the end, he found, she didn’t want, nor did she need, to hear his platitudes.

She just needed someone to be there.

Now, he assumes, isn’t much different. So he sits silently, holding the woman as she falls apart beside him. He feels hatred storming within him, threatening to swallow him whole — hatred for the Jedi Order, for putting her through war at such a young age; hatred for himself, for being by her side, yet unable to protect her; even a bit of hatred for the Force, for somehow putting the heaviest of burdens on a little kid, and deciding she was strong enough to handle it.

She was. Ahsoka has always been stronger than she had any right to be, pushing through things that even he couldn’t handle. She’s the stability when he’s in turmoil, standing strong and unbothered when his faith and morals are shaken.

If Anakin’s being honest, part of him blames himself for this. Maybe she wouldn’t be in so much pain now, if he had been stronger before. If she hadn’t had to be his rock for so long, and hadn’t had to save him so many times, maybe she would’ve turned out fine. If he’d done a better job of protecting her, the way he was supposed to, maybe—

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Her breathing finally evens out a little, and he knows that the worst of it has passed. “I’m sorry,” she whispers in a shaky breath, still not pulling away. He doesn’t think she can sit up on her own, yet. She’s been holding herself up for so long, she was bound to grow tired. She’s never been able to depend on anyone before, and now that she can—

Now that she can, she isn’t hurrying to let go.

Anakin doesn’t mind.  It’s more of the opposite, in fact. He’s happy to be for her what she’s always been for him. He’s not strong enough or even _good enough_ to be someone else’s anchor, but he won’t turn her away; he would never. He’s put her through so much pain since the day they met, and hasn’t given her much to smile about. She’s suffered so much because of him, and there’s no denying that he owes her. If he can somehow save her, make her burden any lighter, then he’ll do it. Even if it takes another few hours, or another few days, or the rest of his life, he’s not going anywhere.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he says, rubbing her back lightly. And he means it; none of this is Ahsoka’s fault. She hasn’t done a single thing to deserve the mess that the universe has hurtled at her. All she’s done is power through it, standing tall despite the odds. She hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s the rest of the galaxy that needs to apologize. “Take all the time you need.”

* * *

**thirty-six.**

By the time Obi-Wan and Anakin make it to where Ahsoka and Palpatine are, she’s already on the brink of death. She’s bleeding profusely from the wounds Anakin has inflicted on her, as well as the ones Palpatine has left. There’s a long scar running the length of her torso, where Obi-Wan remembers Anakin slicing her. Her arms are bruised and scraped, as a result of being thrown around like a ragdoll. Those aren’t the worst of her wounds, though.

No, the worst of them is the gash on her right lek. Considering Obi-Wan has seen her pass out from just a glancing blow to one of them, it’s a particularly horrifying wound.

Yet, she’s still standing. Her breathing is labored, and her body sways slightly, but her glare doesn’t waver, and he knows she’ll fight until she simply can’t anymore.

As much as Obi-Wan admires their young Padawan, he wishes she would give up for once. He understands why she feels the need to keep fighting, but at this rate, she’ll be her own death. Trying to stand up is taking up all of her energy, and if this goes on—she won’t—

Palpatine lifts a lightsaber to deliver the killing blow, and Anakin Force-shoves him away. Having not expected the blow, Palpatine is thrown across the room, landing in an ungraceful heap next to the control. Obi-Wan rushes to Ahsoka’s side as she crumples to the ground, the pain in her lek finally becoming too much for her. Anakin takes a protective stand in front of them, as Obi-Wan drops to his knees beside Ahsoka, his lightsaber clattering to the ground beside him. “Are you alright,” he asks her, placing a hand on the small of her back.

Ahsoka doesn’t answer. She stares up at Anakin with wide eyes, then to Obi-Wan.

“He’s on our side,” he reassures her. “The worst has passed, Ahsoka. But we need to get you off of this ship.”

Weakly, she shakes her head. “Not yet. Not until Palpatine is _dust_.” She tries to stand, but falls back down, into his arms. “Blast!”

“You don’t have to get up,” Obi-Wan tells her, feeling his hatred for their once trusted Chancellor grow. He’s never seen Ahsoka so weak, so worn down. But Palpatine has pushed her past her limits, and Obi-Wan can _feel_ the life seeping out of her.

He shouldn’t have brought her here.

“Anakin only has one arm,” she points out, leaning heavily against him. “He can’t fight Palpatine alone. He’ll die.”

“I will fight beside him,” he promises, trying to keep her down. “But your body can’t take any more stress, Ahsoka. You need to rest.”

Ahsoka eyes Anakin unsurely. Obi-Wan doesn’t know if she has that look because she doesn’t trust him, or because she’s worried about him. Either way, there’s not much more she can do. “But…”

Putting a bit of distance between them, he places his hands on her shoulders, giving her a small smile. “You’ve done your part, little one. We’ll take it from here.” He stands up, grabbing his lightsaber as he does. He takes a stance next to Anakin, tossing him a quick glance, before looking Palpatine. Quietly, he mutters to his apprentice, “Can you fight with only one arm?”

“Of course I can,” Anakin says, with far too much confidence. Obi-Wan commends him for being able to push through that sort of pain, but that strength will eventually run out. He may have been fine so far, but Obi-Wan doesn’t think he can fight this way. Almost hesitantly, Anakin adds, “Do I have a choice?”

And, well—no. Obi-Wan is confident in his skills, but Darth Sidious may even be out of his league. With Ahsoka out of commission, he’ll need Anakin’s help here. They need as much help as they can get, and if Anakin can fight, even for a few more minutes, it’ll be helpful. It has to be enough.

“You’ve betrayed me, I see,” Palpatine says to Anakin, after Obi-Wan doesn’t respond. The old man lets out a sigh. “After all I’ve done for you. You had so much potential, dear boy. It’s such a shame I’ll have to kill you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t accept that,” Obi-Wan interrupts, pointing his weapon at Palpatine. “Your reign ends here, Chancellor.”

Palpatine smiles, cold and brittle and unforgiving. “I prefer the term Emperor.”

* * *

**thirty-seven.**

Leia starts to scream, but the sound gets caught in her throat.

Impossibly, Luke hears it, anyway.

He trips over his own feet to reach her, tearing into her room without hesitation. He climbs onto the bed next to her, his eyes widening at the sight of her. She’s in tears, her face contorted in absolute agony. Her arms are wrapped around her stomach, but it doesn’t seem to bring her any comfort. “Leia? Leia, what’s wrong?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, other than another silent scream. But in his mind, he can almost hear her: _it hurts._ At the age of seven, he doesn’t know enough about the Force to say with any certainty if that’s how he’s hearing her or not. What he _does_ know is that his best friend is in pain, and he needs to do something.

“I’m going to get Daddy,” he tells her, placing a hand on her stomach. One of her hands clumsily grasps it, crushing it in her grip. “You’re going to be okay. Just hold on, okay?”

Leia grits her teeth, her body tensing with pain. _Don’t go,_ she begs him. _Please._

His sister begs him to stay, and his heart breaks. He’s never seen her like this, and he doesn’t know what to do. He has no idea how to help her, and he has to go find someone who does. He leans over, pressing a kiss to his sister’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, Leia. I promise.”

She squeezes his hand, and he pulls away, running out of the room in search of his father. This morning, Leia had stayed home from school because she wasn’t feeling too well. She’d been hurting too much to get out of bed, and had gotten sick several times throughout the day. Luke’s parents and Uncle Ben had all assumed that she was just feeling under the weather. _Luke_ had just assumed that she was a bit sick. But, as he rushes to his parents’ room, he starts to think that that isn’t the case at all.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to his sister, but he gets the feeling that something is seriously wrong.

* * *

**thirty-eight.**

Anakin is on the brink of passing out.

The prospect of collapsing on the floor with Ahsoka and the twins is so tempting, it’s _astounding._ His entire family has been put through the ringer these last couple of days, what with the bounty placed on Padmé’s head, and now that the worst of it is over, no one really has the energy to make it to their beds. They’ve all fallen asleep on the living room floor so many times, it’s about as comfortable as any bed in the house, at this point.

He’s seriously considering just crashing next to Luke. If the kids can just fall asleep in the middle of the floor, he doesn’t see why he can’t. Literally no one has ever accused him of being a good adult, anyway.

Deciding to just go for it, he takes a step towards his kids, but is pulled back by gentle but firm hands wrapping around his upper arms. “They can get away with sleeping on the floor, Anakin,” Obi-Wan mutters in his ear, sending shivers down Anakin’s spine. “You cannot.”

Anakin groans as the older man guides him towards the bedroom, not loosening his grip in the slightest. If anyone asks, Anakin definitely did _not_ lean into the touch. “Why not?”

“Because while you continue to act like a child, you aren’t one.”

“I don’t act like a child,” Anakin whines. “And Ahsoka’s not a kid, either, but you’re letting _her_ sleep on the floor.”

“She’s different.”

Anakin tries to glare over his shoulder, allowing Obi-Wan to more or less push him into the bedroom. He _tries_ not to think anything sexual — it’s late, and he’s too _tired_ — but his mind isn’t exactly functioning correctly, and he can’t help himself. He quickly pushes those thoughts away; Obi-Wan is his friend, almost like his _brother_ , and Anakin is—he’s married. He has no right to be thinking that way. Even though he and Padmé have talked — because she’s Padmé Amidala, and there’s nothing she doesn’t know — and she’s given her consent, he still doesn’t feel right about it. He shouldn’t feel this way for Obi-Wan. And he doesn’t even know how Obi-Wan feels.

He groans to himself, feeling his weary bones getting even heavier. It’s too late to be thinking about this.

“This is nepotism,” he accuses, lowering his voice as Obi-Wan _more or less_ pushes him into bed. (Anakin has no idea what’s happening here, but he feels like he's being seduced.) Padmé is already asleep next to him, and he’d rather not wake her up. She needs the rest more than anyone else.

Obi-Wan scoffs, bending down to take off Anakin’s shoes. This never used to happen, but since the three of them became the parents of three overly energetic kids, they’ve gotten used to doing things like this. Anakin will wash Padmé’s hair after a rough day, or Padmé will let Obi-Wan fall asleep in her lap, or Obi-Wan will help them undress.

Sometimes, there’s reason for it; they’re too tired to move much, or they simply can’t take another step without falling apart.

(This time, he thinks, there’s a reason Obi-Wan is doing this: he knows damn well that if Anakin were left alone, he’d conk out without so much as untying his shoelaces. Obi-Wan and Padmé hate it when he does that, but Anakin doesn’t see the harm. Most of the time, anyway.)

Other times, it isn’t that there’s a particular reason — it’s just something they need. A silent, casual reminder that _hey, I’m here. You can rest now._ As if to say, _leave the rest to me._ It’s something Anakin imagined one day doing with Padmé, back when things were too complicated and yet less complicated, but he never pictured Obi-Wan being a part of it. Now that he is, however, Anakin thinks it’d be incomplete if he weren’t.

The lines between platonic and romantic have become so blurred, Anakin no longer knows where they all stand. Anakin thinks it’s sort of stupid that they’ve been co-parenting for almost nine years now (just over eleven, if they count Ahsoka), and they haven’t worked out their relationship. It’s been almost nine years of lingering touches and longing gazes and unspoken desires. No, it’s been longer than that; _much_ longer than that. But they’ve been teetering on this edge between friends and something more for that long, and Anakin has been cognizant of it for a few months.

He’s slowly but surely creeping into that _pining_ stage, and desperately hopes it doesn’t get that far. He spent more than enough time pining over Padmé, and he doesn’t want to go through it with Obi-Wan, too. Especially since he kind of knows Obi-Wan feels the same way, and there would be no _point_ in agonizing over it.

He should just say something… right?

 _Ugh._ He needs to stop.

“Are you implying that I like Ahsoka better than you,” Obi-Wan asks, bringing Anakin out of his reverie.

Anakin’s lips curl into a lazy smile, more innocent than he’s ever been. “I’m not implying anything, Master.”

Obi-Wan looks up at him through his eyelashes, and he _smirks._ It’s a short thing, his attention quickly diverted back to pulling off Anakin’s boot, but it almost sends Anakin into cardiac arrest. A string of impressively colorful curses run through his head, and he tries not to make it obvious that he’s internally screaming. Obi-Wan has never looked at him like that before, and Anakin doesn’t think he’ll ever get the image out of his head. It was the single most sexual moment they’ve ever had, and if Anakin weren’t on the brink of collapse, he would probably throw caution to the wind and offer to do some _very_ adult-like things to his former Master.

(He’s honestly so deep in this parenting game, he can’t even _think_ crudely. He’ll try again later.)

Anakin is still trying to figure out what to say by the time Obi-Wan tugs off his shirt. The time for a witty response has probably passed, so he moves on and decides to tease Obi-Wan about something else. Naturally. “If I didn’t know any better, Master, I’d say you _enjoy_ getting me out of my clothes.”

Obi-Wan meets his gaze, something unreadable in his eyes, but doesn’t miss a beat as he responds, “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you know better.”

Anakin — the Master of All Things Obi-Wan Kenobi, Except for Obi-Wan Kenobi — has no idea what to make of that. It’s far from denial; the _I suppose_ solidifies that. But it’s not exactly confirmation, either, and Anakin realizes, a bit belatedly, that he’s being teased.

He’s once again speechless — later, they’re going to blame it on the fact that it’s dead o’clock in the morning, and no one other than Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Leia could work up a coherent and facetious thought at such a time — and Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to finish undressing him. Once Anakin’s pulled on the shirt that Obi-Wan’s found for him, the older man steps back. And because Anakin has a penchant for putting his foot in his mouth, he asks, “You’re not going to change my pants?”

 _Finally,_ a bright red dusts itself across Obi-Wan’s cheeks, and Anakin is sort of offended that, of all the things he’s said tonight, his _serious_ remark is the one that makes the man flustered. Obi-Wan clears his throat, trying unsuccessfully to will the blush away. “I’m sure you can do that yourself.”

“But it’s not nearly as fun,” Anakin says suggestively, feeling a bit more confident in his flirting now. Some part of him remembers that he was just telling himself _not_ to do this, and he firmly tells that part to go space itself.

“You’ll survive.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flit to Padmé, as if to make sure she’s dressed appropriately for bed and isn’t in need of anything, then back to Anakin. “Go to bed, Anakin. You definitely need the sleep.” He gives Anakin a fond smile, then turns away from him.

And maybe it’s because of the late hour, or because of the flirting, or just because of his feelings, but Anakin really doesn’t want him to leave.

He catches Obi-Wan’s hand in his, and waits until the man turns back to look at him. “Stay.” It’s something caught between a plea and an outright demand — it’s not desperate enough to be a plea, but it isn’t confident or firm enough to be a demand. It’s just one word, falling from his lips in uncertainty, hopeful beyond reason.

For the first time, Obi-Wan looks unsure of himself and of—probably of _this._ “You know I can’t do that,” he mutters, but doesn’t try to pull out of Anakin’s hold. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“ _Or_ you can stay,” Anakin insists, tugging him closer. It wouldn’t be the first time Obi-Wan’s shared the bed with Anakin and Padmé, but it’d be the first time that it was intentional. It’s the first time where he’s been asked, not because he can’t take another step, but because someone wants him to stay.

Maybe it’s childish and unfair, but Anakin won’t let Obi-Wan leave. Not unless that's what Obi-Wan really wants, and Anakin _knows_ that it isn’t.

The two of them continue to stare at each other, Anakin being relentlessly stubborn, and Obi-Wan being reasonably hesitant. After a long moment, Obi-Wan finally sighs. “Move over.”

Anakin is quick to comply, shifting over to the middle of the bed as Obi-Wan takes off his shoes. They both know he has clothes here, but he doesn’t bother to change — _hypocrite_ — before sliding into the bed. It’s more than big enough for all three of them, yet there is barely any space between their bodies. Anakin can feel Padmé’s forehead almost brushing his back, and his legs tangle with Obi-Wan’s beneath the sheets.

It’s never been weird to be in bed with both of them. There’s never any awkwardness over the tangle of limbs, or the brushes of skin against skin, and when one of them has a nightmare, the others react without fear or hesitation. It’s mostly because they never mean to fall asleep together, and sometimes it only happens out of desperation and the need for a warm bed and a few hours of rest. But tonight, when there’s nothing incidental or desperate about it, there’s that same sense of comfort between them.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slip shut without preamble, and Anakin follows his example. Even as he starts to lose consciousness, he feels the serenity of his family as they rest, can almost hear it like a distant hum in the background. The kids are asleep in the living room, and Obi-Wan and Padmé are both in bed beside him.

Feeling safer and more content than he remembers ever being, Anakin allows himself to slip out of consciousness, and elects to worry about the repercussions of his decisions in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who finally got around to fillin' out some of those prompts, eh? *high fives myself* Now that I've gotten a lot of what I wanted to do out of the way, or at least got the ball rolling for some of those things, I can finally start adding in the things that people requested. See, I'm not _always_ a terrible person. (Liar.)
> 
> A lot of these scenes will still be going in other chapters (i.e. the palpatine showdown, bc we gotta see that from ahsoka's pov, too), so I didn't really go into much depth here. I tried to make these scenes shorter than usual, because I was putting a lot of them in here, but I canonically have no chill, so I don't think I did a very good job of that.
> 
> The scene where Luke is like "something is v wrong with my sister" will be expanded on, as well! You may already be able to guess what's happening, but if you don't, it's okay, I will reveal. It's based off of a semi-true story; semi, because the Force is not that strong within me and my siblings.
> 
> (Speaking of siblings... I literally have ten, lmao. Fourteen, if you count those cousins who were around you so much, they basically WERE your brothers and sisters. So, clearly, I have a lot of experience with siblings. I know what it's like to have brothers and sisters, and how you feel about them. I don't have a twin, but some of us are rather close in age. I write Luke and Leia mostly from experience. We're going to get into the times when they argue, and when they can't stand each other, but I'm honestly trash for them just being super protective and loving with one another. No one has said anything bad about how I'm writing them, thankfully, but I was rereading some of the snippets I wrote about them, and I was like, "could this be unrealistic to someone else??" and I just wanted to say that I'm not completely bullshitting everything, I swear.)
> 
> Thirty-eight is, in fact, part one of how the ot3 gets together. I'm not sure how many parts it'll take to cover that, but they're now moving in the right direction. We have to see more of that from Obi-Wan and Padme's perspectives, and maybe from coherent!Anakin's. We might even see how the kids see the changes in their dynamic, and how everything sort of moves from there.
> 
> I think that's all I have to say. If you have a request or a question, please let me know! Please, please, please, leave a comment, they give me inspiration! Even though I... am the literal worst... at replying... lol. I'm going to get around to doing that, too, I promise! I will do that today, just... not right now, because it's once again 3 am (why do I keep doing this) and I have class at 9. Yikes.


	7. what do we say to the god of death?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke deserves better, Obi-Wan gets observed (like, a lot), and Poe saves the day. (Like, twice.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: poe mentally drags ben... a lot. some things are said, i do apologize.
> 
> um, um... well frickle frackle. i listened to so many songs while writing this, i can't choose one, sooo.

**thirty-nine.**

Listen. Listen, _listen._

It’s not Luke’s fault he didn’t finish dinner, okay? Mommy made a lot of food, it just wasn’t _possible_ to finish all of it. He could’ve never finished that whole plate in one night, even if he wanted to. And he _did_ want to. Mommy’s cooking is the best _ever_ , and he loves it. If he could’ve eaten all of it, he would’ve, _duh._ But there was just too much, and he got really full, really fast.

It’s not fair that he can’t get a snack.

“If you’re too full to finish dinner, you’re too full for a snack,” Mommy says, pulling the pins out of her hair. Leia giggles at his devastated expression, sitting still as Daddy brushes her hair back for bed.

Luke falls back on his parents’ bed, letting out a low whine. If there’s one thing he’s learned from Daddy so far, it’s that whining usually gets the point across. “I’m not! I have enough room for a cookie!”

Hair falling in slight curls around her shoulders, Mommy smiles in amusement, and leans down to give him a quick kiss. “Answer’s still no,” she tells him, which is really mean, since he was sure that her kiss meant she was going to give him a cookie. “Get ready for bed.”

Luke groans miserably as his mother retreats to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Daddy winces. “Tough luck, kiddo.”

At the sound of his daddy’s voice, Luke perks up. “Daddy! Daddy, Daddy! Can I—”

“ _No,_ ” Daddy says, shooting the notion down before it even comes out. He looks wide-eyed and almost _scared_ of the suggestion. “No, no, no, no, _no,_ no, _absolutely not._ Don’t get me involved in this, I cannot be held accountable for anything that happens. I will not contradict your mother. _No one_ should try to contradict your mother. You know what happens to people who try to oppose your mother? They disappear. _Miraculously._ And they’re never heard from again. _Ever._ ”

“That’s usually because you’re the one making them disappear,” Mommy points out, making her way back into the room. “Luke, you weren’t seriously trying that, were you?”

Luke faces a tough decision here. If he tells the truth, he gets in trouble. But if he _lies,_ he’ll probably get in even more trouble. Mommy _always_ knows when he’s lying, and she never likes it. But he can’t tell the truth, either. So what to do?

“…No?” Lie, it is.

Mommy, of course, doesn’t fall for it, if the look she’s giving him is anything to go by.

Luke lets out a long sigh, sliding off of the bed. Leia continues to laugh at his misery as he exits out of the room. They won’t let him get a cookie? Fine. He doesn’t need a cookie, anyway.

He’ll just run away. It’s the only reasonable thing to do, since _obviously_ no one around here loves him anymore.

He’s just a few steps away from his room when he runs into his favorite person, _ever._ “Uncle Ben!”

The man slows to a stop in front of him, probably on his way to Mommy and Daddy’s room. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed, Luke?”

Yes. “Nuh uh! I’m too hungry for bed. Uncle Ben, you love me, right? I’m your _faaavorite_ nephew?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Luke, but you’re my _only_ nephew.”

“So I’m your favorite!” Before his uncle can argue anymore — because he _will_ , honestly, Uncle Ben argues about everything the Skywalkers do — Luke tugs on his hand. “You’ll give me a cookie, right? Because you love me!”

Uncle Ben gives him a suspicious look. “Did you ask your parents?”

Uh—

“And I don’t recall you finishing dinner, either.”

Luke _hates_ that stupid dinner. “But Uncle _Beeeeeen_.”

Uncle Ben lays a hand on his head, a gesture which usually comes before impending rejection. “Finish your dinner,” he suggests, “then we’ll see about that cookie.” And he just—walks away. As if he _didn’t_ just crush the dreams of his (apparently least favorite) five year old nephew.

It’s official: no one loves Luke anymore. They’ve all abandoned him, and he’s going to live alone forever, and _die._

“Fine,” he decides with a huff. “If no one loves me, I’m not going to stick around to take it!” He sticks his chin up, and marches determinately to his room. He won’t cry. Luke is a Big Boy, and he refuses to let the traitors and haters see him act like a crybaby. He’s a Skywalker — he’s _tough._

But he’s also really hungry and sad and he sort of really wants to cry.

He pulls out a bag from his closet, and sets it on his bed. He gets to work on packing his favorite clothes and his favorite toys. If he had a bigger bag, he’d take everything, but since his bag is super small, he’s only taking the important stuff. Like his Anakin Skywalker action figure, and his Jedi Knight coloring book. He can come back for everything else later.

He’s trying to decide if he should leave a note or not, when he hears someone behind him say, “What are you doing?”

He turns to find Ahsoka eyeing him curiously. “I’m running away,” he declares firmly.

Ahsoka’s eyes widen marginally, and she blinks at him. “Oh. Okay… _why,_ exactly?”

“Because no—” He stops, realizing something Very Important. Ahsoka wasn’t here. Ahsoka doesn’t _know_ he didn’t finish dinner. And Ahsoka loves him — she tells him all the time! “’Soka! You love me, right? More than anything in this life?”

“Er… sure?”

“Enough to give me a cookie?”

Ahsoka doesn’t look any less confused — which is good, because _knowing_ means _no cookie_ — but shrugs. “Sure, kid.”

It’s in that moment that Luke discovers what it means to really be loved.

* * *

**forty.**

Poe likes to think that he’s a nice person. He’s a good, hardworking person, who has dedicated his life to keeping the galaxy in order. He doesn’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it, and he tries to give everyone a chance, even if they _don’t_ deserve it.

Poe is a good person. BB-8 even says so. He’s a _wonderful_ person, and he’s not even remotely violent, which is more than can be said for most of the people working under General Skywalker.

He’s not a bad person, but he’s on the verge of killing Ben Solo.

“For the last time,” he spits, “ _talk. To. Your. Mother._ ” He very politely leaves out the implied _you unworthy piece of sithspit,_ but he hopes Ben hears it anyway.

Poe is a really great person, but words cannot describe how much he despises Leia Skywalker’s son. He’s always thought the guy was a bit too pretentious for his own good, but he never spoke about it. General Skywalker has been taking care of him since his parents died when he was thirteen, and he’s eternally grateful for it. He would never do or say anything to hurt her, or her whiny, self-centered, thin as a stick, head in the clouds, delusional ass poor excuse for a son.

No, said overly emotional, unnecessarily dramatic, uppity, disrespectful son is doing a _wonderful_ job of that himself. He’s going through some sort of phase where he’s wearing all black, a _stupid cape_ , and threatening to do terrible things, seemingly for the sole purpose of hurting his poor mother.

Ben — who, for _some reason Poe cannot understand_ , insists on being called Kylo Ren now — snarls at him. “Get out of my room.”

“I will when you do,” Poe replies smartly. He’s going to get Ben, or Kylo, _or whoever_ , to talk to his mother, if it’s the last thing either of them do.

“I realize that you have some _pathetic_ admiration from M—my mother,” Ben — the idiot’s name is Ben, no matter what he wants to call himself — says, and Poe is ninety-eight percent sure he almost called her Mommy. “But you’ll do well to remember who her actual son is.”

“Not the one she deserves,” he snaps before he can stop himself. He was going to be gentle about this, but he’s out of patience, and _beyond done_ trying to coddle this _child._ “Look, I don’t give two bolts about your _manpain_ or whatever this is you’re going through, but your mother is a good person, and I’m not about to sit back while you hurt her. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“This has nothing to do with my mother!” Ben takes several menacing steps towards him, but the cape makes him look too ridiculous to be taken seriously. “I am finishing what my grandfather started!”

What his — _what?_

“ _What are you talking about?_ ”

Ben sneers at him. “You know nothing, do you? My grandfather was the greatest Sith Lord to rule this galaxy. His reign—”

“Stop.” The amount of bantha fodder coming out of Ben's mouth is just painful, and Poe can’t take it anymore. He’s heard the story of Sith Anakin. Of the entire hour and twenty seconds that Anakin Skywalker had yellow eyes and _threatened_ to bring the galaxy to its knees. But that’s where the story ends. With Anakin _threatening._ “Just… stop. Do you even know how that story ends? It ends with the Commander _slicing his arm off_ , and them beating _the actual bad guy._ Or did you completely ignore that part of history?”

“But my grandfather had a _vision_ —”

Poe can’t deny that. “Oh, he did. Of a _safe_ and _sane_ family. What you’re doing is _neither_ of those things. Frankly,” he laughs, “it’s stupid.”

“My grandfather—”

“Your grandfather still gives your cousin piggy back rides when she asks,” Poe explodes. “He braids your mother’s hair, and bakes cookies for family game night. _Your grandfather is a marshmallow._ ”

Ben seethes. “How _dare you_ —”

“You look up to your grandfather so much? _Fine._ He and the Commander will deal with your — _this._ I don’t get paid enough.”

On his way out of the door, Poe hears Ben tripping over his own feet to stop him. “Wait, Poe— _Poe Dameron, don’t you dare!_ ”

“Then talk to your mother, you whiny man child!”

“Fine,” Ben shouts, and Poe looks at him in smug satisfaction. “Fine, I’ll apologize to Mommy. Just— _don’t_ tell Grandfather or Aunt Ahsoka. _Please_ don’t tell Aunt Ahsoka.”

“That you made your mother cry?”

Ben flinches. “…Yes?”

Poe points to the hall. “Go fix it, and I’ll think about it.”

Ben glares at him, but dutifully stomps out of the room. As he does, he yells, “You don’t even live here!”

Poe doesn’t care nearly enough to take offense. He got what he came here for. As long as General Skywalker is smiling by the time she goes in for work the next morning, he’s satisfied.

* * *

**forty-one.**

An easy silence rests between them. It covers the house like an old blanket, comfortable and familiar. He and Obi-Wan are the only ones cleaning up, as Padmé and the twins sleep peacefully in their rooms. Ahsoka, who was supposed to be helping them, had wandered into the living room for a fifteen minute break some twenty minutes ago, and is now fast asleep on the couch. They’ll have to wake her up eventually, if for no other reason than to direct her to what is unofficially her room, but for now, Anakin thinks they can let her rest.

Obi-Wan glances over at Ahsoka, not for the first time, and Anakin knows he shares the sentiment. “Our Padawan has come a long way,” the older man remarks, that rare fondness seeping into his voice.

 _Our Padawan._ The words bring a smile to Anakin’s face, and he doesn’t even try to hide it, though it’s a bit nostalgic. Ahsoka hasn’t been his Padawan in over a year, and he can’t say that he deserves her as his _anything_ after what happened a few months ago. But he thinks it’s that very incident that makes Obi-Wan say it. Ahsoka is no longer the awkward, overconfident fourteen year old he was forced to teach just a few years ago, nor is she the warrior that saved his life just a few months ago. She’s bigger, bolder, _better_ than both of those girls. She’s someone he could’ve never taught her to be, and he’s so proud of her for it.

The thing, though, is that this new Ahsoka doesn’t come without scars. She’s still unsure of herself and of the people around her, as a result of Barriss’ betrayal, and she’s still—she won’t say it, but she’s still afraid of _him._ She still hesitates to meet his eyes, sometimes, as if she still expects to see that same hateful, hideous yellow coloring his gaze. She has nightmares, and sometimes wakes up with tears in her eyes and a scream stuck in her throat. She tries to stamp down on her panic and terror, but he feels it. Even without their bond, he thinks, he would be able to feel it. He would be able to see it. Because he _knows_ Ahsoka, better than anyone else, and he knows the kinds of things that haunt her in the dead of night.

He knows that he’s the root cause of most of that fear.

“You kept in contact with her,” Anakin says, not for any particular reason. “When she left. You knew where she went.”

Obi-Wan glances up at him, then back down to the dishes in the sink. “We spoke after she denied the Council’s offer. I made sure she knew that she didn’t have to go through everything alone.”

Part of Anakin is bitter. Part of him wants to know why Ahsoka didn’t come to _him_ when she had trouble. He wants to know why she couldn’t trust him — her _Master_ — the way she apparently trusted Obi-Wan. He wants to know why she almost completely cut him off, but kept in contact with the older man. He wants to know _why not me,_ but some part of him already does.

Obi-Wan is capable of letting go. Anakin isn’t. If he’d known where Ahsoka was, he would’ve done everything in his power to bring her back. And even though he hadn’t accepted it at the time, she needed that time away. She needed to find a place without him, and Obi-Wan helped her do that.

But he messed up, too.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here,” Anakin says, voicing the same thing that he’s been thinking for months. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy she’s here. I’m glad she came home. But you put her in danger by bringing her here when you did.”

“I did what needed to be done to save you.” The words come out so effortlessly, as if that’s really all there is to it. It sounds a lot like _I would do anything to save you_ , and Anakin wonders if that’s what it is. He wonders if this is some sort of vindication thing for Obi-Wan, or if he’s missing something.

Honestly, it doesn’t really matter.

“Ahsoka almost _died._ ”

“She was willing to.”

The worst part is that Anakin knows it’s true. Ahsoka was willing to do whatever it took to save him, and he doesn’t know why. She’s saved him countless times, and he—he doesn’t feel like he’s saved her _at all._

“Did you know,” he finds himself asking. Finally, Obi-Wan turns to face him. “Did you know that I would become that?” It’s vague, but he knows Obi-Wan knows what he’s talking about. Anakin has a lot of regrets, but there’s nothing that keeps him up at night like his fall to darkness.

“It was… a possibility,” Obi-Wan answers, a bit unsurely. “But I’d thought that—”

Anakin doesn’t want to hear anymore. “ _You knew,_ ” he hisses angrily. “You _knew_ , and you didn’t try to prevent it? Why didn’t you do something to stop me?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes harden, and something cool and unrelenting floods their bond. It’s an anger that Anakin wasn’t expecting, but probably deserves. “You think I didn’t try,” Obi-Wan parrots, his voice lifting an octave. “You think I _knew_ you were being manipulated, and I just _let it happen?_ Anakin, I did my best! I raised you the only way I knew how, and I _tried_ to keep you on the right path. But—”

“But I screwed up,” Anakin finishes, deflating a little as his gaze falls to the ground. “I know.”

“No,” his Master disagrees, some of the defensiveness leaving his tone. “You were not alone in your fall, Anakin. I, along with the rest of the Council, are just as responsible for what happened. We all failed you, Anakin, and I’m _sorry._ But, believe me, there is nothing I wouldn’t have done to save you. Ahsoka and I both knew the risks, and we were willing to take them.”

They’re both so unapologetically devoted to him, and he just—he doesn’t _get it._ He doesn’t understand why either of them are so intent on saving him, when he just _isn’t worth it._ He messes up time after time after time, and they both know it. He’ll keep messing up, and _they both know it,_ so why do they keep saving him? Why do they put their lives on the line for him, when all he does is spit in their faces?

He feels a hand graze his arm, and pulls his eyes back up to Obi-Wan. The man is much closer than he was before, staring into Anakin’s eyes with a gentle confidence that exudes _promise._ “I will not fail you again, Anakin. And I will do whatever it takes to protect you. Even if it costs my life.” There’s an underlying, unspoken promise there, one that neither of them are willing to touch upon. Anakin hears it anyway.

_I will choose you every time._

* * *

**forty-two.**

Luke doesn’t know a thing about twin telepathy.

He and Leia joke about having it all the time — well, _he_ jokes; he’s pretty sure Leia just wants to see who’s dumb enough to actually believe it — but he doesn’t know if it actually exists. There are a thousand possible reasons for why they can read each other so well, and he doesn’t see why twin telepathy can’t be on that list.

It’s always come in handy, regardless of what it is. It’s always kept them sane, when the rest of the world was in chaos. When everything else fell apart, he could always reach for his sister — physically and mentally, and know that she was there. When they had nightmares, they could share them without saying anything, so that _his_ burden became _their_ burden. It’s how he always knows how upset she is, even when she’s too stubborn to let it show.

Sure, it sometimes gets aggravating. Because he can’t always keep track of his thoughts, and when they run away, they run to her. She snaps at him, telling him to _stay out of my head!_ And sometimes, she can be downright _mean_ , and he doesn’t want her scathing words filling his conscience. Life is dark enough, and his mind is the only place that’s always bright, but sometimes Leia threatens that. It gets _annoying_ to be caught in someone else’s mindscape, and unable to pull yourself out without a fight. Sometimes, it’s just plain overwhelming.

But, for the post part, he likes it. He likes being this close to his sister, likes being able to have an entire conversation with only a brief glance. He likes that they know each other so well, and that it’s so effortless.

The twin telepathy, or the Force-bond, or whatever it is that puts them in each other’s heads — it’s helpful. It’s one of the best things about being a twin. But he doesn’t need it to know that right now, in this moment, the same thought is running through both of their heads—

_I’m going to strangle you._

What started out as him trying to help her for her date with Han has somehow dissolved into a yelling match, and neither of them seem intent on holding back.

“You had no right!” Leia screams, fire dancing in her eyes. He can’t remember the last time she looked so hurt and angry, and he has no idea why she’s feeling that way.

What she’s saying makes no sense, though. “ _I_ had no right to not tell you how _I_ feel?”

“You had no right to lie to me,” she snaps. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I would change my mind about all of this if I knew how you felt?”

“ _Of course it did!_  Why do you think I hid it? I was trying to protect you!”

“ _I didn’t ask you to!_ ”

What a ridiculous argument. Of course she didn’t ask him to; she didn’t have to. He’s her brother. The only thing he ever does is try to protect her. It’s his only job. No matter what it costs him, he will always do right by her. Nothing — especially not some _guy_ — is going to make him suddenly turn his back on her, or _wait_ for her to ask for his help. She never needs to ask for his help or his protection, because she always has it.

And he thought—maybe it was silly, but he always thought that she knew that. He thought that she felt the same way. So why are they having this argument?

“I would _never_ ask you to do something like this,” she cries. “Why would you— _ugh!_ ”

And maybe Luke _is_ an idiot, because he’s not seeing what he did wrong here. “I was trying to make you happy!”

Her eyes widen, and she gives him an incredulous look. “You think this makes me _happy?_ ”

“I don’t even know why you’re angry!”

“Of course you don’t.” She sounds — _beyond_ angry. The way she’s looking at him is the same way guys at school do, right before she punches them. Something falls in the pit of his stomach and suddenly, he’s getting the impression that this isn’t about Han anymore. “You never know what you do wrong, do you?”

“Leia, what are you _talking about?_ ”

“ _You_ , Luke! The—the way you always hide things, and you overreact, and you make things _so complicated!_ ” He tries to interrupt her, but she’s a volcanic eruption that shows no sign of slowing down. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you’d just told me at first! I wouldn’t even _feel this way,_ if you’d just told me from the beginning! Dammit, Luke, I’ve spent my entire life trying to protect you, and the _one time_ I want something for me, you have to want it, too!”

And that’s not fair. It’s not fair, and she has to know that. He didn’t even _say anything._ He wasn’t trying to move in on Han, or get in the way of anything. He hasn’t even confirmed that he likes Han. Hell, he was never going to confirm it, no matter what she said. Because she’s his sister, and he’ll always put her above his own desires. He never planned on getting in the way, and he’s made that obvious, but she doesn’t seem to care. She’s gone postal, and he genuinely hasn’t done anything to deserve it.

At least, he doesn’t think he has. Honestly, he doesn’t know anymore.

“I don’t _want him,_ ” he shouts, although it’s a lie. He’ll say anything, if it makes her stop screaming at him. “I’m not trying to get in the way of anything, Leia! I was trying to help you!”

“Then stop helping,” she spits, and he visibly recoils. “I don’t _need_ your help!”

That sounds an awful lot like _I don’t need you,_ and Luke feels—he—

“What’s going on here?”

—has never been so grateful to have Ahsoka as a friend and family member. For as long as Luke can remember, she’s always been there. She’s always been there to save him from everything, big and small. She’s always been there, with her arms wide open. He’s always been able to go to her — when he’s scared, or when he just needs a hug. Even though he’s sixteen, she still gives him a hug whenever he asks, and she still stays up and eats late night snacks with him when he can’t sleep. Ahsoka is and has always been his hero.

He wonders if she somehow knew that he needed saving now, because he feels stupidly like he’s about to cry. It’s not fair that Leia is so angry with him, because he did all of this for _her._ She has no clue what he’s been through for her sake. She has no idea that he’s spent _two years_ watching her dance around the guy that _he loves_ , and pretending to feel nothing. She doesn’t know how many nights he’s lied in bed, crying over how much it _hurt_ to love Han _so much_ and know that he didn’t stand a chance. Because Han could never know, and _Leia_ could never know, otherwise all the pain and suffering would’ve been for nothing. He just doesn’t understand because he’s given up _so much_ for Leia, and yet.

Yet, she’s screaming at him, and he doesn’t even know how to defend himself.

Feeling unnecessary tears welling up, he turns away from Leia. The anger drains from Ahsoka’s face when she lays eyes on his expression. “Luke—”

He shakes his head and walks past her, pretending that he doesn’t hear her calling him. He doesn’t want to ignore her, but she’s just going to make him talk to Leia, and he isn’t ready for that.

He just wants to talk to Papa Ben.

* * *

**forty-three.**

It’s possible that FN-2187 didn’t think this whole _rescue_ thing through.

On one hand, he’s finally getting out of this base. After twenty-one years, he can find a life _outside_ of the First Order. No more raids; no more killing. He can run, as far away from this place as he can, hide from Phasma and Hux and the entire damn Order. And this pilot guy — whoever he is — can go back to his family, and stay out of the Order’s way. And maybe FN-2187 will become part of the Republic Army, run by the Skywalkers. That’s now an option for him, and it never has been before.

On the other hand, he has a pilot, and no ship.

“This went a lot smoother in my head,” he admits, when the two of them are ducked down in the cargo bay. The cargo bay, which is full of ships _and_ troopers. “We’ll never make it.”

“We can make it,” the pilot disagrees. He glances around the corner of the cart they’re ducked behind, then back to FN-2187. “We just need, uh— uh—” There’s an explosion on the other side of the base, and it sends all of their troops running. The pilot grins. “That. C’mon.”

He takes off running before FN-2187 can stop him, and he’s left to stumble along behind him. In record time, they’ve climbed into one of the TIE fighters, with him at the gun and the pilot at the gears. “Go,” he urges the pilot in a rush. “Go, go, go!”

The man doesn’t need to be told again. In a matter of seconds, they’re taking off, the wings of the ship scraping against the metallic floor as they pull up. Soon, the ship steadies, and they easily fly out of the open space. FN-2187 allows himself to breathe again. He knows it won’t be long before someone notices the prisoner is gone, and starts shooting at them. There’s no guarantee they’ll get far, but at least they’re off of that base.

“Hey,” the pilot calls back to him. “What’s your name?”

Name? He doesn't actually have one. “FN-2187.”

“F… what?”

At the pilot’s tone, he sort of feels embarrassed by the number. While most of the troopers received nicknames at some point in their training, he never did. “It’s the only name they ever gave me.”

“Well, I ain’t using it. F-N, huh…” The man trails off, as if in thought. “Finn,” he decides. “I’m gonna call you Finn. That alright?”

“Finn.” It’s a name. Not a nickname, like Rocket or Beastie; it’s an actual _name_ , and it’s _his._ “Yes. Finn, I like that. I like that.”

“I’m Poe,” the guy calls back, seemingly proud of the name he’s given him. “Poe Dameron.”

 _Poe._ He commits the name to memory. Even if he never sees Poe Dameron after this, he knows he’s going to remember him forever. He’ll never forget the Republic pilot who gave him a name. “Good to meet you, Poe.”

“Good to meet you, too, Finn,” Poe echoes, a smile in his voice.

That’s about the time that people start shooting at them, and _Finn_ decides it’s time to get his head in the game.

Between the time that he’s named and the time they’re shot down, Finn learns approximately one thing:

Poe Dameron is one _hell of a pilot._

* * *

**forty-four.**

She dreams of serenity.

Of Luke and Leia, growing up in a galaxy without war. Of Ahsoka, released from the ghosts that attack her every time she closes her eyes. Of Obi-Wan, letting them in and realizing that they aren’t going anywhere. Of Anakin, forgiving himself for his transgressions and realizing that they already have.

She dreams of smiles and laughter, the sun shining on them with a light brighter than she’s ever seen. The wind whistles past them, as Anakin and the kids make flower crowns, fingers clumsily weaving green stems together. Luke finishes his first, and he waddles over to Obi-Wan, laying it on his favorite uncle’s head as if it’s truly an honor. Obi-Wan — with a twenty-two year old Ahsoka on his back — accepts the crown humbly, lightly slapping Ahsoka’s leg when she giggles at him.

Leia finishes and she places her crown on Anakin, proud of the way it seems to naturally fit on his head. She jumps into her daddy’s lap, her arms wounding around his neck. He laughs, telling her in an urgent voice that he hasn’t finished his crown yet, just give him a moment. She turns around in his lap, and helps him finish it up. When it’s done, they hold it up, letting out loud cheers of victory. Anakin taps her leg and she climbs off of him, running over to Obi-Wan, who now has Luke hanging onto his neck, too.

Anakin stands and walks towards her. “Hey, beautiful,” he says with a lopsided smile. He takes a seat in the grass in front of her, and wastes no time in putting his flower crown on her head. It’s one of those rare occasions where she’s let her hair down for the day, because no one will be seeing her but her family. She doesn’t need to dress up or put her hair in any intricate style. There’s no image to set here, no bar to meet. She knows they’ll think the same of her, no matter what she looks like. The love between them all is reciprocal and unshakable.

Anakin kisses her then, calm and gentle, pressing without pressuring, like waves lapping gently at the shore. He pulls her under until she’s consumed by everything he is, and she’s helpless to drown. It lacks the fiery passion and desperation that he usually kisses her with, and she wonders why that is. She wonders if it’s because he no longer feels the need to prove anything — not his love, or his repentance, or his worth. He is no longer at war, and no one is chasing him but her.

 _I love you_ is whispered against her lips, and she smiles. She feels a weight press against her back, and pulls away to glance to the side. Luke leans over to meet her eyes, and he grins at her. She returns the smile with a bright one of her own, then looks up to where Ahsoka and Leia are teaming up in an effort to convince Obi-Wan of who knows what. The two girls high-five each other proudly, and Obi-Wan laughs fondly. He looks up and meets her gaze, and they share a secret smile.

Even if only for one insignificant moment in time, they are at peace, locked away in a blissful eternity. It’s a contradiction she doesn’t care to correct, because this moment will forever live on inside of her. She will never forget the way that her children smile, or Anakin breathes, or Obi-Wan laughs. She’ll never forget what coming home looks like.

When she wakes up, the house is dark. She doesn’t remember getting to bed, but she must have made her way here at some point. And she’s not alone in bed, either. Anakin lies beside her, his arm draped lazily and protectively over her waist, as if to protect her from—

Oh. That’s right. She almost died.

She should probably be a bit more shaken over it, but she doesn’t feel any fear for what _almost_ or _could’ve_ happened. Death knocks at her door on a weekly basis, and she’s never once let it in. She won’t change her routine now.

On the opposite side of Anakin, Obi-Wan is fast asleep. Maybe a lesser woman would be outraged at another man sleeping in her bed, but if anything, it only sets Padmé’s heart more at ease. It’s so rare that Obi-Wan lets his guard down this way, and as his friend, she’d be remiss to interrupt such a moment. She doesn’t know how often he sleeps when he’s not here, and she knows he doesn’t really allow himself to sleep when he is. She isn’t sure how Anakin coaxed him into bed, but she’s glad for it.

Her fingers graze Anakin’s cheek, and her dream flashes before her eyes. The slow simplicity of it all leaves her with a smile on her face, and she realizes that it wasn’t too far off from reality.

Regardless of what happens outside these walls, in this moment with these two — with this _family_ — she feels as light as a single petal of a flower, shaking in the wind. Wherever it blows, she knows that there’s nowhere she can go that they won’t follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://chokedacid.tumblr.com/post/142491433884/elithien-yuri-puppies-urdnot-i-dont-give-two) is the post that inspired snippet forty, and forty-four wasn't exactly inspired by this poem, because I was writing it before I thought of said poem, but some of the lines were inspired by it. And because I can't find the original post, I'm just going to type the poem out here. I DO NOT OWN THIS POEM, I DID NOT WRITE IT, I CREDIT THE ORIGINAL OWNER, PLS DO NOT MISTAKE ME FOR SOMEONE WHO HAS TALENT. Ahem:
> 
> I do not love you for your  
> strength and grit, for your set jaw,  
> for the harsh cartography of your knuckled  
> fist. I do not love you for your  
> sharp corners.  
> I rub your tensed wrist like  
> a pliant mouth, I wait for spread  
> fingers and vulnerable palm: a  
> hollow nest to dream in.  
> I want the hurt you soothe like an  
> ulcer in your mouth, your night terror,  
> your raw-eyed vulnerability; these  
> unarmored parts which  
> are mine alone.  
>  _Darling, you are not at war._  
>  Slow down, breathe deep, drop your guard.  
> No one is chasing you but me.
> 
> If anyone can find the post where this poem came from (the poet changed their url, so I can no longer find them), please let me know? I want to link you guys to it, because the poet has some beautiful poems, I have like... eight of them screenshot(ted?). But, um... frick, what to say?
> 
> I know I've been like, "We're going to learn about what Ahsoka was up to, pre-Vader!! We're going to see this thing and that thing!!" and we haven't yet, and there's no excuse for that other than I just haven't fit them into the snippets yet. In the next one, I promise we'll at least get one look at what Ahsoka was up to post-bombing arc, and we'll see all of these situations from other peoples' POVs. Because you will not fucking convince me that Han didn't love Luke just as much as he loved Leia. You just won't, don't even try it, I won't hear it.
> 
> Also, haha... ha... did you notice how Luke ran to Obi-Wan after his fight with Leia? Because Obi-Wan also... knows what it's like... to watch the man you love be in love with someone else... haha... shoot me :)
> 
> On the topic of that snippet, you more than likely noticed how Leia went 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye, and I will get to that! More than likely in the next chapter, because she made her brother cry, and I need to deal with the fallout of that asap immediately. So we'll see this from her POV soon, and we'll see why she suddenly got so angry.
> 
> Um, um... we're going to see more of Ben's Kylo Ren stage, and why that's happening (because I!!! have a plan!!!), but for now, we get a snippet of Poe being Absolutely Done with him and his emo self. We're also going to see Han and Ben, and Leia and Poe, and... all sorts of mixes and matches! Now that all of the kids are introduced, and we've seen all of the main players, I think I'm finding some coherency in this shit, LOOK AT ME NOW. *self-five*
> 
> Also, hey, I want to ask you guys a question: How do you think the love triangle should be resolved? I originally had a plan for it, but then I started to have feelings (fuck that noise), and now I'm incapable of going through with it. Someone has already left a suggestion (and it's an absolutely wonderful suggestion, that I'm seriously considering going with), but I want to hear from other people, too! So what do you think should happen?
> 
> I think I addressed everything? I'm going to update "gravity" as soon as I finish updating this, so... oh, yeah! Last thing, and I'll ask on my other story, too: would it be helpful if I posted on tumblr when I update my fics? I'm not sure how many people from here follow me over there. But I know that most authors do it, and I just want to know if it's something you guys would want me to do. *laughs at my own incompetence* I have no idea what I'm doing.
> 
> Thank you for reading, fam, and I will try to get the chapters out quicker. I had three essays due this week, and a ton of other shit, so I've just been super stressed out. Thank you to everyone who commented/bookmarked/subscribed/kudo'd this story and/or the others, as well as those of you who talk to me on tumblr! You're all wonderful people, I don't deserve it.
> 
> As usual, let me know if you have any prompts or questions, either on tumblr (chokedacid) or down in the comment section. Please leave a comment, it would make me truly happy, aaaand I will see you on the flip side! Have a wonderful week!


	8. you could coax the cold right out of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Riyo make a terrible team, Han realizes a thing or two, quite a few lives are saved, and Ahsoka starts a new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hi?
> 
> i want to give a thank you to everyone who stopped by my tumblr to check on me, and to the person who commented here just to ask me if i was okay. it means a lot to me that you guys actually give a damn, and i want to thank you for not being angry with me for being a useless sack of salmon. it was a really difficult month, and hearing from some of you really did help get me through it. so i want to really thank you guys, and i hope that you're all doing okay, too. if you ever need to talk to me about anything, you can find me here, or on tumblr. i'm always open to talk, no matter what.

**forty-five.**

The last time Ahsoka saw Lux Bonteri, she was sixteen years old, and still trying to figure out how to prioritize her work over her feelings. It isn’t a time she likes to remember, particularly because it was _embarrassing._

Looking back on it, she realizes that she probably was never actually into Lux. Her time with him had been horribly limited, and had consisted of him admitting he was a Separatist, tasing her, and almost getting her killed. There wasn’t much to like about him, especially before she’d seen him on Onderon. Then, at least, he’d been kind of reasonable and could take direction from someone who actually knew what they were doing.

She figures that maybe she just liked the idea of liking someone. Lux was her age, single, and not confined to any sort of code that would keep him from pursuing a relationship. At the time, he seemed like a good guy—and he _is_ a good guy. He just isn’t the kind of guy she would ever really want to go out with.

Especially considering she doesn’t even _like_ guys.

After helping out on Onderon, she didn’t think she’d ever see him again. And part of her always hoped that she wouldn’t. Lux was a terrible phase in her life, and not one that she ever wants to think about. She hates to think about how she’d almost put her feelings over her mission, even for someone who’d endangered and hurt her the way that Lux had. She hates to think about how much she let false feelings control her. And as long as no one mentioned him and she didn’t see him, it was always easy to not think about him.

In hindsight, she should’ve realized that the Senator’s Ball would put that in jeopardy.

The second she spots him, she tries her best to disappear. Of course, by that time, he’s already seen her and is making a beeline for her, a gigantic grin planted on his face. “Ahsoka!”

 _Poodoo._ She turns back around, painting a smile on her face. “Senator Bonteri. It’s — _oh._ ” She’s surprised when he hugs her, but wraps her arms around his neck. She may not be happy to see him, but it isn’t like she hates him. They _were_ — are? — might’ve been friends at some point. “It’s been a while.”

“More than,” Lux says, pulling away. She supposes fifteen years is an awfully long time. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well,” she answers honestly, her eyes catching onto suspicious movement behind him. If anyone asks, she’s just doing her duty as security detail. In reality, she just needs an excuse to look away from him. “How…” She trails off, her eyes widening when her gaze lands on the clones.

A group of them stand about twenty feet behind Lux, and they look absolutely _murderous._ She’s suddenly reminded of the fact that while she isn’t too fond of her memories with Lux, the boys absolutely _hate him._

She shakes her head at them, giving them as stern a look as she can muster. _Don’t do anything stupid,_ she tries to convey. _He hasn’t done anything, leave him alone!_

“Ahsoka?”

Her head snaps back up to Lux, and she forces a smile. “How have things been going with you? I heard you were engaged.”

The man blushes, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I am,” he confirms, a small smile on his face. “Unfortunately, beloved couldn’t make it tonight. But perhaps you two will meet at the wedding?”

Wh—

“Wedding? I _love_ weddings.”

_Oh, no._

“I do, too.”

Ahsoka isn’t sure either of them actually like weddings, but Anakin and Riyo don’t even attempt to take their words back as they come to stand on either side of her. Rex must take that as his cue to step in, too, and breaks away from the gaggle of clones to come stand next to Anakin.

Now, more than ever, Ahsoka regrets that her fifteen year old self couldn’t hold _water._

Lux looks confused at the sudden company, but he doesn’t outwardly question it. “They’re lovely ceremonies,” he agrees.

Riyo hums with a saccharine smile. “Who’s getting married?”

“ _Lux,_ ” Ahsoka answers, throwing her lover a pointed look. “And his _betrothed._ ” Both Ahsoka and Lux flinch at the term, memories of the Death Watch debacle emerging in both of their minds. “Er, fiancé. His fiancé.” She shares a glance with him, and they both quickly look away.

Anakin’s eyes harden at Lux, and Ahsoka elbows him sharply. She can only put up with so much of his crap in one day before it officially becomes too much, and he’s already crossing that line. _Quickly._

She looks over to where she last saw Han, Chewie, and Padmé, to find them already observing the scene from afar. She sends them a pleading look, ocularly _begging_ them to come save her. Or kill her. Honestly, as long as they make this suffering end, _she doesn’t care._

All three of them look away, casually sipping at their drinks as if they hadn’t seen her in the first place. _The nerve._

She has no idea where Obi-Wan took the twins, but she is willing to bet her lightsabers that they’re intentionally hiding from her.

Gritting her teeth, Ahsoka looks back to the group in front of her. Lux is trying, rather unsuccessfully, to disappear without moving, visibly shrinking every time someone fires a question at him. Anakin and Rex are slowly but surely moving into past subjects, and she knows this will eventually lead to the Carlac thing, which she _really_ doesn’t want to talk about. Riyo has that gleam in her eye that only politicians ever get, that pretty much promises social and potential physical destruction upon whoever’s on the receiving end. Ahsoka _almost_ doesn’t want to step in, lest Riyo turns that glare on _her_. But the longer she lets this happen, the more likely they are to ruin Lux’s political career.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she interrupts loudly, drawing their attention to her. “Lux, it was fun seeing you, but I think Saw’s looking for you.”

Knowing Saw, he isn’t, but the senator seems just as desperate to go along with her lie, given how quickly he responds to it. “Yes! We were supposed to be meet the new minister of Mandalore while we’re here, and we really shouldn’t keep him waiting. It was lovely seeing you again, Ahsoka.” _Lie._ “Perhaps we’ll see each other again soon.”

She gave him a tight smile. “Maybe.” _Not likely._ She watched as the senator walked away with forced nonchalance, clearly restraining himself from running across the room. She actually sort of feels bad for him. Once he’s out of earshot, she whirls back around to face her friends, who look all away in faux innocence.  She hates them so much, she cannot _believe_ she thought they were good people once upon a time. “That is the _last_ time I tell you anything!”

* * *

  **forty-six.**

Han was fourteen years old when he met Padmé Amidala-Skywalker. Or, more accurately, when she found him in what was admittedly some really messy crap. She walked in, high heel shoes on her feet, and immediately took control. Being one of the smallest people in the room, Han thought she would’ve been more afraid. To his surprise, though, everyone else was afraid of _her._

He can’t really remember exactly how they went from a fourteen year old smuggler and a scary senator to… _this,_ but he knows that it started with her promising to pay him if he did something that he most definitely did not do. It took him two years to realize that he hadn’t done it, and a few more to realize that she never wanted him to. She hadn’t wanted his illegal expertise, and she definitely didn’t plan on paying him. (And he _swears_ , he’s going to mention this to her one day.)

Padmé didn’t plan on doing anything other than saving him. And somehow, impossibly, without his knowing, she did.

Meeting her family was utterly terrifying. Even if she liked him (for whatever reason), there was no guarantee that her family would agree with her. Being an orphan, Han didn’t know a damn thing about families, and wasn’t good at dealing with them, either. But he was terrible at saying no to Padmé, and soon found himself at her doorstep.

Her family had different opinions of him, which he probably should’ve expected. What he didn’t expect, though was for them all to _like_ him. He didn’t expect Luke’s wide-eyed admiration, or Leia’s sporadic bouts of protectiveness. He didn’t expect Anakin’s begrudging respect, or Ahsoka’s lighthearted camaraderie, or Obi-Wan’s never ending well of thinly veiled paternal advice. He hadn’t expected to be so seamlessly integrated into this family, gradually becoming one of them.

And for a really long time, things were at their prime.

It took him some time to get used to the idea of being a part of any family, let alone one as full and all-consuming as this one. He had to get over the fact that he’d more or less been manipulated into becoming this new Han Solo who no longer looked out for himself, but for others, too. He had to learn how to deal with the protectiveness he felt for the twins, and even for Ahsoka and Padmé, despite knowing full well that they’re just as capable of taking care of themselves as Anakin and Obi-Wan. More than anything, he had to get used to having people out there who actually gave a damn about him.

Once he got used to it all, and allowed himself to be part of this picture of wild and chaotic love, things were the best they could possibly be. It didn’t become a problem until maybe a month or two after the twins’ fifteenth birthday. He very clearly remembers that moment. Conversation with Leia went the same way it usually did — with her shooting down just about everything he had to say — until suddenly, she _smiled._ Smiled in a way that he’d only ever seen a few times: guard dropped completely, eyes crinkling, lips parting almost too wide for her face, shoulders trembling from unexpected laughter. He’d seen it, but never like that; never aimed at him.

She smiled at him, his stomach dropped, and the only thought running through his head was _oh. Oh, no._

It was tough, coming to grips with his feelings for her. For a moment, the age gap freaked him out more than anything. It was only four years, which meant practically nothing to a galaxy full of beings that lived to be hundreds and thousands of years old. And considering the age differences between her parents were both larger than the one between them, it probably wouldn’t have been a big deal to her or them, either. (Maybe to Anakin. Definitely to Anakin.) But he was nineteen, and she was still fifteen, and he felt weird and gross in a way that he hadn’t in a _long_ time.

Eventually, he told himself to suck it up and _just not think about it._ He wouldn’t act on his feelings, anyway. Partially because of the age difference, partially because Leia just wasn’t into him. It didn’t take him any time at all to realize that. And while that hurt, it was also kind of comforting. He had no _reason_ to act on his feelings, because they weren’t mutual.

That, of course, was before she kissed him.

It was nothing to write home about. It was quick and chaste, and she jerked back as soon as she realized what she was doing. He only managed to get out a half-assed witty remark before she bolted from the room.

It’s been about a month since that happened. Neither of them have mentioned it, though he thinks they _should_ , and he doubts that they will. Neither of them — _none_ of them, actually — are like Luke when it comes to feelings. They aren’t good at just putting it all together and having it make sense. And if, by some miracle, they do, they don’t know how to put those feelings into words and appropriate action. ( _Appropriate,_ because Anakin has a history of putting his feelings into actions, and he never does it the right way.)

Han has no idea if Leia kissed him because she likes him or not. He doesn’t know if she knows, either. It’s sort of ridiculous that the two of them, who pride themselves on being strong and mature and independent, can’t even work out their feelings and admit that they _might possibly_ be crushing on each other. But it’s not that ridiculous, because feelings are _hard_ , and this is why he spent much time avoiding them.

They’ve done a really good job of dancing around the subject, he thinks, watching Ahsoka arm wrestle with Anakin. (She’s going to win, because Ahsoka _always_ wins.) At this rate, they’ll be over each other before they get around to talking about it. Which isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it’s better if—

He pauses, same as his companions, when he hears yelling from upstairs. He can’t make out the words, but it’s obvious who’s doing the yelling. The Force-sensitive occupants of the kitchen must feel something that he doesn’t, because they exchange a look. “What,” he asks, loathing his lack of power. Half of the time, the Force seems like some hoax gone too far, but there are times like this, when he wouldn’t mind being in on it. “They fight at least once every three weeks.”

“Yeah,” Anakin agrees, pulling away from his match with Ahsoka. “But not like this. They’re really going at it.”

Ahsoka stands up. “I’m going to stop them before one of them says something they’ll regret.” Back ramrod straight, she marches out of the kitchen, making a beeline for wherever the twins are.

Han looks back to Anakin, trying desperately not to look as worried as he feels. “Is it really that bad?”

Anakin, lips pressed tight together, nods. He has a tense expression, as if he’s feeling every single thing his children are feeling. Maybe he does; maybe that’s how the Force works. Han doesn’t care about the logistics, he just wants to know what’s going on.

Not even a minute after Ahsoka leaves, someone comes thundering down the stairs, heading straight for the door. Anakin’s eyes shoot after the figure, who passes them without a glance. “Luke—”

“I got him.” Without waiting for a response, Han stands up, following Luke towards the door as Anakin heads up after Ahsoka. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“Out,” Luke bites out. It’s not like him to talk to anyone like that, unless they’ve done something that he takes as a personal offense. Whatever fight he and Leia had, it must’ve been bad.

“Yeah, I see that.” Han grabs his arm, turning the teen around to face him. His heart lurches dangerously, unpleasantly, when he sees the tears that threaten to trail the sides of Luke’s face. “What did yo—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Luke interrupts hastily, looking away from him. “Go talk to Leia.”

Leia? Why would he do that? Yeah, she’s on the other end of this argument, and if Luke is crying, she’s probably feeling like crap. She probably does need some comfort, but Anakin and Ahsoka are up there with her. She’ll be fine. “I’m talking to _you._ ”

Luke snaps. “I don’t want you to,” he shouts, backing away from Han. “I don’t want—I don’t want any of this!”

Han ignores the fierce aching in his chest at Luke’s words. “Any of _what?_ ”

Luke swallows, looking away again. Why does he keep doing that? _Look at me,_ Han wants to yell. _Look at me._ “Where’s my dad?”

“Which—”

“Ben. Where’s Ben?”

Han knows when he’s being brushed off. He’s lived in the world of criminals and in the world of luxury, and that feeling is always the same. It’s always infuriating to be pushed to the side in favor of someone else, especially when you’re doing everything in your power for the person dismissing you. But it’s never hurt this bad before. All those times when he’s been dismissed by bounty hunters and smugglers and ministers and senators, the sting was never quite so sharp.

And maybe it’s because it’s Luke, who never pushes people away, who is physically _incapable_ of pushing people away. Luke, who takes it personally whenever he sees someone being ignored or overlooked. Luke, whose heart is always so open and welcoming. Luke, who trusts so easily and naively, and who’d never make it in this galaxy on his own. Luke, who’s warm and luminescent, and whose smile breaks through the strongest of defenses. Luke, whose touch eradicates all cold pains and replaces it with something so comforting and addicting, who doesn’t let the monsters get too close, who Han sometimes swears to himself that he’ll always protect, swears he’ll _always be by his side_. Luke—

 _Oh,_ Han realizes, speechless as the teen gives up on waiting for him and walks out of the door. _Oh, no._

* * *

  **forty-seven.**

The sun is just peaking above the horizon when Obi-Wan pries his eyes open.

There’s an arm slung protectively over his waist, lightly anchoring him to bed. Anakin — who, at some point, took his shirt off; _predictably_ — lies on his stomach, one arm thrown over Obi-Wan, the other curled under his pillow. It can’t possibly be comfortable, but Anakin doesn’t seem bothered in the least. Padmé is facing Anakin, knees pulled up and digging into her husband’s side. Obi-Wan has no idea how they survive sleeping with each other every night, but he thinks it’s only fitting for a couple as disastrous as this one.

With a quiet sigh, he rolls onto his back, and pushes himself up. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, forcing his exhaustion down. Trying to protect this family has always been a full-time job, especially in the past week. He’s glad that it’s over, but can’t help but wish it’d been over sooner. His weariness goes down to his very bones, which ache and creak every time he moves. He can already feel a long day ahead of him, and silently contemplates just going back to sleep and waking up tomorrow. Ultimately, he dismisses the idea. He’ll get Anakin and Padmé the day off, but he’s the least affected by all that’s been happening, so he has no reason to stay in today.

On reflex alone, he reaches out for the residents of the house. He feels for their Force signatures without urging them to reach back. It’ll be a while before any of them wake up, and he isn’t looking to cut that time short by any means. He feels the twins and Ahsoka still in the living room, safe and sound. Padmé and Anakin, next to him, are alive and well, though they’re almost twice as worn down as the children. He pulls back before they can detect his intruding presence, and takes a deep breath before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He has to check in with Master Yoda, at the very least. He can take a few hours before he makes the trip to Coruscant, just to be sure that no one else makes any attempts on Padmé’s life. He’s already made it clear to the Council that her safety, as well as that of the children, is paramount, and that he won’t compromise it for any reason. Once they’re all awake and can take care of themselves, he’ll leave. For now, he should at least make contact with the Council to let them know that all is well, and to work things out for Anakin and Padmé’s sake.

He manages to tug on his left shoe before he feels someone stirring behind him. “Obi-Wan?” He sits up straight, glancing over his shoulder as Padmé blinks blearily at him. “What time is it?”

“Dawn,” he informs her. He sends a small smile her way, before bending back down to tie his shoe. “You have the day off. You can go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” she agrees, far more willing than he’d been expecting. “As long as you get back in bed, too.”

He starts slightly at her terms. “That’s not necessary,” he stammers, keeping his eyes on his shoes. “You need the rest more than I do.”

There’s a soft sigh behind him. “Ani,” Padmé calls to her husband, causing Obi-Wan to turn around to face her, “tell Obi-Wan to get back in bed.”

Anakin comes to with a low groan, glancing at his wife, then to Obi-Wan. His brows furrow. “Where are you going?”

“I have to at least check in with the Council,” Obi-Wan says, feeling as if he’s intruded on something terribly intimate. The sight of these two in this state is something that is only meant for their eyes. He has no right to be a part of this moment. Exhausted or not, he needs to learn to drag himself home at the end of the day, no matter how much his body protests. He can’t keep doing this. It’s not right, he _knows_ —

“The Council can wait,” Anakin decides, careless of the battle waging in Obi-Wan’s mind. His fingers wrap around Obi-Wan’s wrist, tugging him back. “We can sleep in for one day.”

“I had no intention of waking you,” Obi-Wan points out. “Anakin—”

The younger man lets him go with a sigh. He rolls onto his back and leans up on his elbows. The sheet slips down his chest to his waistline, and Obi-Wan’s eyes can’t help but follow. He swallows thickly and looks away. _Not yours to see,_ he reminds himself. “After all we’ve gone through this week, you really don’t want to take a few more hours off?”

That couldn’t be further from the truth, actually. Obi-Wan wants nothing more than to stay here for the rest of the day, _at least._ But that’s not an option for him. He has work to do, and if he ever does take a day off, it shouldn’t—it _can’t_ be here. This isn’t his home, and he can’t keep forgetting that. “It’s not about that—”

“Then what is it about,” Padmé asks, tipping her head a fraction to the side, drowsy eyes clouded in worry.

Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to answer that. Not honestly, anyway. Even if Padmé knows his feelings, he isn’t about to expose himself to Anakin. He can’t tell them anything about why he can’t stay, because it’d just create too much of a mess.

“You’ve never had a problem sleeping with us before,” Anakin says, and Obi-Wan almost chokes on spit. “I don’t see what’s so different now.”

Obi-Wan feels the heat rush to his face, and hopes they can’t see it. “I… that’s…”

Padmé sighs. “We can have this conversation later. Both of you, go back to sleep,” she says with finality, before sliding back under the covers, her head coming to rest on the pillows. Anakin grins at Obi-Wan and follows her lead, slipping down onto his back. Realizing the battle is lost, Obi-Wan takes his shoe back off and slides back into bed. A slightly tense silence lingers over them for a few seconds, before there’s movement on the bed.

Anakin shifts next to Obi-Wan, and the elder man looks up just in time to see Anakin swing a leg over his waist. For a moment, he thinks that he’s already fallen asleep, and that this dream immediately took a rather heavy turn, but the weight on his hips feels too real, and the smirk on Anakin’s face is far too grating for this to be a dream. Anakin is really on top of him, and it’s far too early for Obi-Wan to be dealing with this. “Anakin, what in the blazes—”

“Move over.”

“What?”

Anakin squeezes his thighs around Obi-Wan’s waist and _oh,_ this is not how Obi-Wan expected this conversation to end. “Move over. Sleep in the middle.”

Not for the first time (or last, more than likely), Obi-Wan has no idea what Anakin is thinking, but if it gets him out of this position, he’ll sleep _outside._ Anakin lifts off of him so that Obi-Wan can take his place, entire body hot as Anakin settles in the space he recently occupied. Thinking that it’s a risque move to pull in front of his wife, Obi-Wan looks over at Padmé, only to find her watching with an amused smile. She winks at him, and her eyes shut once again.

Obi-Wan is starting to realize that he’s being teased, and this probably was no accident.

Padmé curls up next to him, and he feels Anakin move closer, too. “Now, you can’t run away,” his former Padawan whispers in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. It’s Obi-Wan’s reminder to never try to play this game with him, because no matter how good Obi-Wan is, Anakin is _better._ He had to have won Padmé over somehow, and it _certainly_ wasn’t his shining personality.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Obi-Wan drawls dryly.

Anakin laughs, slipping an arm around his waist, pressing his front completely against Obi-Wan’s back. Without even opening her eyes, Padmé reaches for Anakin’s hand, twining their fingers together. It’s a private show of affection, one that he shouldn’t be privy to, but for some reason, he is and they won’t let him out of it.

Quietly, softly, in the depths of his heart, he acknowledges how much he doesn’t want them to. He wants to be right where he is. Even if he doesn’t belong, it’s the only place where he truly feels safe and at ease. He’s nowhere, if he’s not with them, and he knows that this will only become a bigger problem, the longer he lets it fester. But for tonight, for now—

He feels Anakin’s breathing even out against his back, and Padmé slowly falls asleep. And though Obi-Wan has a million things he needs to be doing, a million things he _should_ be doing — first being: _get out of this bed_ — he makes no move to leave.

He doesn’t fall back to sleep. He just lies there, feeling the two of them, physically and otherwise, and allows himself this brief period of peace. When they all wake, maybe then he’ll worry again. For now, he simply can’t find it in himself to.

* * *

  **forty-eight.**

The Boy names her Maeve. She sees no significance in the name, but she does not protest it, either. Names are meaningless to her, anyway. A packless wolf like herself has no need to share names, or to even have them. If The Boy wants to call her that, it makes no difference to her.

It is odd for her, that they have given her a home. Most humans run from her kind, and would not allow them anywhere near their families. The Man seems to be the most weary of her, always keeping her at a distance. He sometimes even places himself between her and the pups. Admittedly, she does not care much for The Girl — who, as she has observed, does not need as much protection as one her age usually does — and has no intention of hurting her. Similarly, she does not plan to harm The Yellow-Eyed Man, The Queen, or The Warrior. She is simply indifferent to them.

The Boy is different. She will protect him, no matter what it takes. That is the promise she made to him the day she saved him from those beasts. The day they met, she had seen his Light and Innocence, and had sworn that she would let him lose it to the Darkness that surrounded him.

She was surprised when she first entered The Boy’s home. More Darkness lurked there than in the jungle. It seemed to linger in the air, fitting itself into every crevice and crook it could find. The Girl was significantly less dark than her parents, but not nearly as light as her brother. Maeve will always wonder what diminished her Light so early in life, but she supposes she will never know.

That is the thought that runs through her mind in the seconds before the attack. Lying on the ground next to the pups as they play with cards, her eyes snap open as she hears something from outside. She lifts her head at the same time The Warrior does. The Warrior has crossed the room in the blink of an eye, lifting The Girl into her arms. “Maeve, get Luke,” she orders in an urgent tone.

Usually, she does not take well to being told what to do. But even a lone wolf knows how to take direction in the face of danger. She takes a bundle of fabric from The Boy’s shirt in her mouth, lifting him from the ground, and following as The Warrior jumps out of the window, The Girl held protectively in her arms. They are already outside by the time something is tossed and explodes inside of the house. The house itself seems fine — the bomb was no more than a threat. But someone issued the threat — someone who needs to be taken out of the picture.

The Warrior kneels to the ground, The Girl still cradled to her chest. Maeve releases The Boy, and nudges him towards The Warrior. She does not wait for an order, this time. She dives back in through the window, snarling as she steps around broken glass and fallen cards. She follows the scent of The Intruder, red tinging her sight.

This family is capable of protecting their own, she knows. But anyone who puts The Boy in danger must be eliminated. He is _her_ pup, and his Light will not be extinguished by human filth.

Whatever The Intruder was expecting, it certainly was not her. That much is made clear by the surprise on his face when she enters, low growls escaping her lips. The Intruder lets out a swear, trying to scramble away from her. _Too late._ She pounces on him as he tries to run, her large paws pressing his shoulders to the ground, claws digging into his skin. He shouts, and she cuffs him over the side of the head. If he had no desire for confrontation, he should not have attacked this family.

Her jaws clamp down on his shoulder, and she steps off of his back, dragging him out of the house with her teeth. She throws his body to the ground, and he pushes through the pain to flip onto his back. “Please,” The Intruder pleads, staring fearfully up at her. “Please, don’t eat me.”

Are all humans so stupid and vain? She has no interest in eating him. No being as vile as him is worthy enough to be eaten by her. Though she is considering it now, after he both attacked her home _and_ insulted her. With a growl, she swipes at him, her claws ripping through skin. He lets out another cry of agony, thrashing beneath her. This is why she hates humans. They are so selfish and uncaring, quick to harm one another, but unable to handle any pain themselves. What a weak, pathetic species.

“Maeve!”

She is momentarily distracted as The Boy runs towards her. The Girl stays behind, but Ahsoka sprints after him. The Intruder takes advantage of the situation, throwing Maeve off of him. He pulls something from his waist, and throws it at The Warrior. She manages to put the pups behind her, but does not have the time to save herself.

Maeve’s  body moves before her mind catches up; a first for her. The Warrior turns as the object detonates, and Maeve just barely has time to put herself between her and the explosion.

The Warrior gets away with what will probably be mild burns on her back. Maeve — she feels her entire body burning, but sees no fire.

She whimpers, body falling to the ground. She hears The Boy crying out for her, sees The Man, The Yellow-Eyed Man and The Queen running over, just in time to stop the kids. The Yellow-Eyed Man trips over himself to reach The Warrior, but she collapses against Maeve. “Oh, Maeve,” she whispers in pain. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

Foolish girl. What good are apologies — now or ever? They do not change what has already been done. They do not heal wounds or fix fractures of the heart. Apologies are nothing but the plea of a coward, desperate for forgiveness he does not deserve. That is all the more reason why The Warrior should not degrade herself this way. She is no coward — she will one day lead armies, and bring mountains crumbling down. She will one day step into her role as the apex predator, and become the thing that monsters have nightmares about. The Queen will rule every land she steps foot on, but The Warrior will be the one to conquer them. She is no coward, and should not stoop to begging for forgiveness that she does not need.

Maeve made her decision. She will not accept apologies for it.

She feels The Warrior reaching out for her — not physically; reaching out with her soul, the same way that The Boy did on that first day. Maeve closes her eyes, feeling comfortable in her final moments. She tries to communicate with The Warrior, even without the aid of words. _Do not let them remember this,_ she tries to tell her. _They are too young to remember this clearly in the future. Do not let them remember my death. Not like this._

She feels The Warrior nod against her fur, and relaxes. She understands, then; good. “I won’t,” The Warrior promises. “I’ll figure something out.” Her fingers start to card through Maeve’s fur, and the wolf leans into it. “Just rest now, okay? Everything will be okay. Thank you, Maeve. Thank y...”

Maeve does not live long enough to hear the rest.

* * *

  **forty-nine.**

At first glance, Han is unimpressed with this kid.

He’s apparently here to ask Leia out on a date. Han doesn’t understand why any self-respecting man would do that to himself — not because there’s anything _wrong_ with Leia, of course. But because she has extremely high standards, and can be brutal when she’s in a _good_ mood. Not to mention her family (including the clones) watch over her like a hawk, and will no doubt rip this kid to shreds the second they see him.

He’s lucky Han is the one who caught him lurking outside the house like a nervous stalker. Anyone else probably would’ve killed him on the spot. They follow a very strict Shoot First, Ask Question Last rule. To be honest, Han is a big fan of that rule, too, but Obi-Wan confiscated his blaster yesterday, so he isn’t able to follow it at the moment. Instead, he settles for trying to talk to him.

At first glance, Han is unimpressed with this kid.

After actually talking to him, Han thinks he was a bit too nice in his judgement.

“Her family is going to eat you alive,” he says bluntly. The kid’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, and that is _exactly_ what Han is talking about. He seems afraid of the entire world. This family has no _room_ for wimps. They don’t even accept nice people. The only exception to that rule is Luke, and he’s part-badass, so it evens out. This kid? He’s just _sad._ “Seriously. They’re going to rip you to pieces and eat you for lunch.”

“What? That — what?”

Han really doesn’t like him. “You realize she has two dads, right? And that her mom is the senator?”

“Um, yes, but—”

“Her mother is the scariest person I’ve ever met,” Han says. He’s trying to scare the kid, but he’s not lying. “I’ve known her for years, and she _still_ terrifies me. And one of her dads is about as close to a criminal as a Jedi is going to get. He’s the reason the Jedi Order collapsed and had to rebuild itself.” That’s a bit of a stretch, but the kid clearly doesn’t know that.

“He… oh.”

 _Weak._ “What do you like about Leia, anyway?” Han is neither her brother nor her father, so he _probably_ has no right to be asking this stuff, but he’s going to anyway. He’s pretty sure he liked Leia first, so this is (impossibly) his competition. And if he can literally scare this kid away, he’s going to.

“She’s, um,” the kid stammers. “She’s beautiful, and kind—”

“You have never spoken to her, have you.”

“And she’s really smart—”

“Brilliant, actually.”

“And, um…”

Han blinks, thoroughly unimpressed. “Is that all?” He really is doing him a favor, at this point. “Kid, I’m not trying to be mean here, but you have no chance. If Leia’s family doesn’t grind your bones into their soup, she will. She takes after her parents, and doesn’t know a damn thing about mercy.”

The kid’s shoulders drop. “Oh… What about Luke?”

Han raises an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“Do you think I have a chance with him?”

 _Yeah, no._ If he didn’t stand a chance with Leia, he _definitely_ doesn’t stand a chance with Luke. He’s nice enough to actually give this punk a chance, which would mean all of the Skywalker clan, _and_ the clones, _and_ the Organas, and probably everyone else on the damn planet giving this wimp the third degree until they ultimately decide that he isn’t worth Luke’s time. He wouldn’t last a second as Luke’s _anything._

Han puts on a pleasant smile. “You know what? I’m just going to let you meet the family.”

He gives the kid ten minutes, _at best,_ before he starts crying.

* * *

  **fifty.**

Ahsoka isn’t sure she can leave the ship yet.

In reality, she’s too afraid to. Leaving the Temple was harder than she’d ever imagined it could be. She’d known that it wouldn’t be easy. It was a decision that she had to make, for her own well-being, but she hadn’t expected it to be like that.

She’s so emotionally drained, it’s a miracle she hasn’t broken into tears yet. She _wants_ to. She wants to break down and cry, the way she never had the chance to. She wants to kick and scream and cry, wants to know why this happened to _her_ , why _Barriss_ would betray her like this, _why no one but Anakin believed her._ She wants to know why she’s the only one suffering like this, and why no one seems to care. She wants to know why she’s alone again. She wants to stay here, and let herself feel the pain for a little while, before she forces herself to get over it.

But she can’t. Because Ahsoka Tano is not that girl. She’s not the girl who breaks down every time things go wrong, or every time she faces a bit of adversity. Ahsoka Tano has been through all that the galaxy can possibly throw at her — she’s been kidnapped, hunted, almost sold _multiple times_ , betrayed, beaten, degraded, looked down on, chewed up and spit right back out. She’s been through more than half of the Jedi she knows, and she will not allow _this_ to break her. She will survive this, the same way she’s survived everything else. She doesn’t have a choice.

She pulls herself up, straightening her back. “Everything will be okay in the end,” she mutters, opening up the ship. “And if it’s not okay, then it’s not the end.” She repeats the mantra a few more times as she exits the ship, taking slow but confident steps. She can’t remember where she heard the phrase before — read it in a book, maybe — but she’s carried it around with her for a while now. The words have gotten her through the hardest times in her life, and they will get her through this, too.

Things will be okay. She’ll make sure of it.

She hesitates for one more second, before she pushes her anxiety away. She’s no longer a Jedi. It’s time to find out who and what she is now. Without the Council, without Anakin and Obi-Wan. And the first place to start is here. Back to the start — on Shili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, fam. okay, breakdown of things that happened in the past month (in this order): tumblr url change, "call it gravity" deleted, shit hitting the fan in all aspects of my life, lemonade, starting yoga, and... i could go on, but the point is that way too much was happening all at once, and this stupid chapter refused to be written.
> 
> brief breakdown of the "call it gravity" thing: i hated the story, and didn't want it up anymore. so i deleted it. then that kind of spiraled into me hating _everything_ i've written and almost deleting every file on my laptop, before i reminded myself to find my fucking chill. and it was honestly so bad, i couldn't find it in myself to write anything. luckily, my writing group came back together, and i got my shit together and started writing again. i started, i think... five more fics? and i wrote the second chapter of "i could teach you (but i'd have to charge)" fucking FINALLY, so that should also be posted soon. this wouldn't have taken so long to write, had i not changed it two thousand times. but whatever. 
> 
> finals are coming up, then it's summer, so i'll have a lot of time to write and post, in between finding a job and being a professional piece of trash. so... yay.
> 
> about comments: i... physically cannot reply to all of them anymore. my procrastination has reached a new level, and has gotten me into a mess. i'm going to try to reply to comments from now on, probably a bit more selectively than before. but for the ones unanswered from previous chapters, i probably will not answer them. i'm sorry. um, someone asked about whether padme's family will show up. i honestly don't know? i didn't really plan on it, but if that's something you guys would like to see, i will try.
> 
> thank you to postmodem for originally suggesting polyamory for the luke/han/leia sitch! and thank you to everyone else who echoed that idea. someone also suggested aro!leia, which i think would be awesome. i want to write a fic with aro!leia and trans!luke, so i'm putting that on my list of goals. whether it will actually get written or not is still up in the air.
> 
> i think that's all. thank you all, again, for being so patient with me. thank you for the feedback on this story, it keeps me going. you can find me on tumblr now at sekhmct (speaking of username changes, pdotschuy will probably change, too). if you're one of the newer readers and the links that i posted previously don't work for you, change chokedacid to sekhmct, and it should work then. (also! the poem that i mentioned last chapter is [here.](http://sincerelyjoanna-blog-blog.tumblr.com/post/37916144081) it's a beautiful poem, and the poet is definitely one of my favorites.) i really do hope you're all doing well. please leave a comment, and i will see you on the flip side.


	9. in which there are a lot of feelings (most of them are good)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins know who they're meant to be, Ahsoka gives a lot of people a lot of feelings, and Rey just doesn't want to be alone.

**fifty-one.**

It’s not that Leia isn’t her own person. Anyone who assumes that is misguided, to say the least, and has likely never actually spent time with the young woman. Leia Skywalker is not a replica or a duplicate of anyone. If she is a work of art, she is an original masterpiece, a portrait painted with nothing in mind but something new, something indestructible.

Even still, she is a portrait painted with her father’s colors.

That same volcanoes hidden beneath the blue of Anakin’s eyes lie dormant in her own, standing out proudly and unflinchingly. Protective fury runs in her veins, turns her blood to acid, her voice to bullets in moments of hardship. She outshines any sun without a lick of effort; not because she’s particularly _bright_ — not in the way that Luke is, anyway — but because she’s that magnificent. She is a sight to behold, stronger and bolder than any light or darkness that may stand in her path. She is a prodigy, not unprecedented, but unexpected.

She has all of Anakin’s blues and reds, but the streak of yellow covering his eyes is only a speck in hers. And _that_ — that is the greatest difference between them. Because Leia, in all of her righteous glory — in her blazes of fury, in her groundbreaking ideals — would never make the same mistake that her father did. She would never be seduced by what lurks in the darkness, no matter what it could possibly do for those she loves. Maybe she’s already learned from her father’s mistakes; maybe she’s never needed to.

If Leia Skywalker is a portrait, she is not one of a princess, or a damsel in distress. She is not like her mother: she is not elegance and royalty, primped and poised. She is not the soft petal of a rose, but the thorn that hides beneath.

Rex burns this image into his mind. As Cody points a finger across the shooting range, and Leia lines up the shot, he tells himself never to forget this, because _this_ is Leia. This is her very essence, who she is right down to her core. Her image is not one of a princess, but one of a soldier: blaster in hand, eyes focused and steady as her finger grazes the trigger. She shoots, and the recoil doesn’t seem to faze her at all. She puts her arm down, and looks to Cody and Rex — not for approval; for criticism. She is still learning, still growing into who she is meant to be, and is still looking for guidance. She’s not the type to push away those who want to help, especially not when she went seeking their help first.

It’s not childlike wonder or innocence that looks back at Rex right now; it’s a yearning for greatness, a genuine desire to do better and be better. It’s strength, even at the risk of being wrong or corrected. Even at fourteen, Leia holds the sort of wisdom and confidence that many clones and Jedi never develop. And maybe Rex has nothing to do with that — maybe he hasn’t contributed to her wisdom, or her prowess, or her confidence — but he feels pride in a way that he hasn’t since a fourteen year old Padawan, many years ago, stepped into everyone’s line of sight and proved her worth. In some ways, Leia reminds him of that Padawan, but even then. Even then, Leia is not a continuation or a repeat.

Even then, even now, Leia is a supernova on her own. The galaxy has never seen anything like her, and it likely never will again.

Rex is glad and _honored_ to have taken part of the creation, even in this infinitesimal way.

He smiles crookedly down at the teenager in front of him. “I pity the man who stands on the other end of your blaster, General.”

* * *

**fifty-two.**

Luke finds him almost buried in dirt, miles and miles away from the crash site. He passed it on the way here, and had feared the worst. If not for the stubborn blood that’s been passed down from his parents, he would’ve called off the search altogether and may not have found him at all. And maybe it was luck, or maybe it was the Force, but something had pulled him in this direction: away from civilization and towards him.

He’s close to giving up, wondering how to break the news to his sister, when he finally happens across him. And when he does, he feels happiness swell in him like a balloon, bringing air back to his lungs and peace back to his mind.

He falls to his knees beside the young pilot, shaky fingers finding his pulse. It’s slower than it should be, but it’s there. He’s still alive, Poe is still alive, and Luke hates how afraid he was of losing him. They are _nothing_ without hope, and Luke almost lost that. How silly of him.

He lifts the young man in his arms, willfully ignoring the way his arm dangles limply out of Luke’s hold, head lolling around lifelessly as he carries him. As Luke walks, he can feel Leia curiously calling to him, wondering where he is, and why he’s so far away. He reaches back for her, calming, reassuring. The prodding presence in his mind disappears, and he knows that she got his message.

Poe groans in his arms, stirring but still unconscious.

“Don’t worry,” Luke mutters to him, taking careful, even steps back in the direction he came from. “We’re going home.”

* * *

**fifty-three.**

“Anakin!”

He looks up at Ahsoka as she approaches. A smile forces its way across his lips at the look on her face, and he wonders how she knew. There are a number of people who could’ve informed her of the situation, but clearly no one who’s told her nearly enough. She looks like she’s on the verge of flying into a panic if she doesn’t get any news soon, and he— _geez,_ he loves her. In all of her protectiveness and familiarity, he loves Ahsoka Tano.

He’s also selfishly glad that she’s on the verge of falling apart, because that at least gives him a reason to keep it together.

“Hey, Snips,” he greets her, faking an easy-going smile. She sees through it; he knows she does, but she doesn’t comment on it. “You look… haggard.”

Her eyes narrow at him, and she crosses her arms over her chest. Maybe she sees how much he needs her _not_ to freak out right now, because instead of asking, she fires back, “ _Haggard_ , Anakin? Really?”

“You look like it, not me.”

Unamused, she glares at him. Her look softens only moments later, and her stance relaxes. “How is she?”

Anakin thinks back to the moment Luke came running into the kitchen, eyes wide and wet and _so damn afraid_ , Anakin almost lost himself again. That’s the thing about being a father: he’s always ready to lose who he is and what he believes for his kids, for Ahsoka, for Obi-Wan and Padmé. He’s fallen once, already, and it’s changed him at the very core. He will never be the Anakin Skywalker he was before Palpatine sunk his claws into him, but if he is to become a monster, then he will do so for them. At the thought that someone had slipped past his defenses and hurt or frightened his children, Anakin was so prepared to make that same plunge into the darkness without any regrets.

It’s pure luck that Luke spoke before he could, but only because it would have terrified Luke to see his father change before his very eyes. Whoever Anakin becomes when the Sith in his rises, it is not someone Luke needs to meet, now or ever. And it’s — _a miracle_ , honestly, that today was no more than a near miss.

“She’ll be fine,” Anakin reports. “Her appendix almost ruptured.”

It takes a moment for the words to register in Ahsoka’s mind. Anakin watches as they sink in. Ahsoka’s mouth opens, then closes. Her eyes widen slightly, brows picking up as she searches for something to say. Then she settles on, “Oh.”

Anakin’s reaction upon hearing the news was something similar. A bit more… _more_ , but similar, nonetheless. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

They both know it’s not true. Appendicitis is deadly. If Luke hadn’t caught it when he did, Leia would have been in unimaginable pain. She might have even died before Anakin managed to get her to the hospital. It’s something to worry about, but it’s not— it’s not something they can _fight._ Appendicitis isn’t something they can kill, or rip apart, or arrest. It’s something that Leia’s body did to itself, something so—so—

“ _Human,_ ” Ahsoka mutters, releasing a heavy breath. She settles down into one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, looking down at her lap. “That’s such a human thing. I never imagined…”

And that’s the funny part, Anakin thinks as he sinks into the seat next to her. They’re used to fighting bad guys from every alien race, saving people, jumping in and out of danger as their jobs dictate, that they completely forgot that some of them are human. Anakin and Obi-Wan, Padmé and the twins — they’re all human, and are constantly fighting their own _bodies._

It's funny and stupid, all at once.

Ahsoka sighs and leans over, resting her head on his shoulder. She has to angle it weirdly to keep her montrals from poking him, but it’s still comfortable, and he needs the contact. He needs the anchor, the reminder that even if he almost lost his way, he didn’t. He’s still him, still here, and so is she.

“Stupid appendicitis,” Ahsoka murmurs, and he thinks he’s justified in laughing. Just a bit.

* * *

**fifty-four.**

Ahsoka lands on her toes. She _always_ does. Luke swears, she’s closer to a cat than a human, with reflexes that no actual person should have. His lightsaber is only _inches_ short of cutting into her torso, and he bites back a curse at how close he came. He spins his weapon once and gets back into stance, while Ahsoka lowers her own lightsaber to the side.

He notes, with no shortage of disdain, that even if he attacked her right now, she would _still_ wipe the floor with him. _She’s so cool._

Ahsoka juts out her hip, planting her hand on it. “Luke,” she starts. He winces at the admonishing tone. Considering how much of a sister Ahsoka is to him most of the time, he hates it when she switches into aunt mode. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t half-ass your moves, even in training. Otherwise, you’ll make the same mistakes when you’re in a real fight. Come at me like you’re trying to kill me.”

His eyes pop open even further in distress. “I can’t do that! What if I actually hurt you?”

“I always attacked your dad like I was trying to kill him.”

The way she says it so nonchalantly makes Luke think she actually _was_ trying to kill him. Knowing Ahsoka (furthermore, knowing his _dad_ ), it’s not that far out of the realm of possibility. Then again, it’s more than that. More than Ahsoka’s competitive nature, and his dad’s propensity to goad her own, Ahsoka is a natural warrior. Luke grew up believing that she was born to wield a lightsaber, could never imagine her doing anything else, and fourteen years later, he still believes that. There is almost nothing that Ahsoka _can’t_ do, especially when she gets her hands on any sort of object that can be used as a weapon.

(He’s really not that naïve, nor is he deaf. He can walk out onto any street on almost any planet, throw a rock, and hit someone who’s ready and willing to tell him all about teenage Ahsoka Tano. The same Ahsoka that was just as vicious as she is now, saving countless lives across the galaxy, never backing down unless absolutely necessary, never showing fear in the face of adversity. Stories circulate in the Jedi Temple: the rebellions she helped lead, the villains who fell at her hand, the adventures she had.

His favorite story is the way she escaped arrest. The story of the framed Jedi isn’t recorded anywhere — “Because it’s embarrassing for them,” Leia once told him, flipping through a book in a language he didn’t even _recognize._ “Not only did they let themselves be fooled by a murderer of their own making, they accused the _wrong_ Jedi, publicly ostracized and humiliated her, tried to recruit her again with a flimsy excuse, and got rejected.” — but it’s well-known. Ahsoka escaped capture almost completely on her own, led dozens of people on a wild goose chase, and was only captured for trial after she was tricked. It’s unbelievable, if you ask Luke. The clones and the Jedi are supposed to be this strong, invincible force, but Ahsoka — at _sixteen_ — was able to evade all of them. It’s unbelievable.

He also knows that Ahsoka is the one who cut his dad’s arm off. The second time, anyway. And that’s… yeah. He’s not sure how he feels about that. Tries not to think about it.)

But he’s not Ahsoka. He wasn’t born to hold a lightsaber, nor is he one of the most famous Force users in the galaxy. He’s not sure he can summon bloodlust out of thin air and make it disappear just as easily. He’s talented, sure, but not _that_ talented.

“Try again,” Ahsoka urges him. Her legs spread as she assumes her stance. Unsurely, Luke follows her lead, wrapping his hands around his single lightsaber.

She doesn’t give him a chance to whine or change his mind before she charges at him. He lifts his lightsaber to block hers, but doesn’t let her lock him there. He kicks her in the stomach, sends her stumbling back a few steps. He _wants_ to let her recharge. Regardless of what she says, Ahsoka is still Ahsoka, and Luke can’t imagine any reality or make believe world where he would want to kill her. Maybe it’d be easier if they were still using wooden swords, the way they did when he was just a little kid, but the weapon in his hands right now could _actually kill her._ Just the thought makes him sick.

He goes after her anyway. He wants to be the type of Jedi she was; the kind that his dad used to be. And if pretending that he wants to hurt her is the way to go, then he’ll pretend.

She regains her footing before he reaches her. His lightsaber slashes at her throat, but she ducks beneath it, dropping to the ground, and knocking him off his feet with a sweeping kick. Before she can take the final blow, Luke rolls out of the way and flips back to his feet. He takes his stance again, determined eyes locked on Ahsoka. The corner of her mouth twists in a smirk, and he sees something spark to life in her eyes: pride, excitement, happiness, determination. It’s an accumulation of things, things he’s feeling himself.

He goes on the offense again, bringing his lightsaber down towards her head. She uses both of her weapons to block it, pushing him off after some time. He loses his footing, and does two backflips to keep from falling. (It’s a trick he learned from her, actually.) She’s already charging at him by the time he lands, and he spins out of the way of the move, throwing an elbow at her back. It gets her between the shoulder blades, causing her to stagger forward. It doesn’t take her down, though; she has her lightsaber pointed at his back in the blink of an eye. He grits his teeth, irritated that this battle ended so quickly. And he was actually getting the hang of things, too.

 _No._ He’s finally getting this; he won’t give up now.

He takes a step forward, just out the reach of her lightsaber, and uses his own to knock the yellow one out of her hand. There’s one beat: a small moment where shock crosses her face, and her eyes follow the lightsaber instead of him. He takes advantage of it, slicing across her stomach and knocks the green lightsaber out of her other hand with a spinning kick.

He whirls around, turning his eyes to the two lightsabers that now lie on the ground, out of her reach. A bright smile spreads on his face, because, “I did it.” He spins back around to grin at her. “Ahsoka, I did it! I…” His smile drops when he sees her.

The first thing he notices is the pain written across her face. No matter how much she tries to hide it, it’s plain for him to see. The second thing is the way her hands press protectively against her stomach. The third and final thing is that she’s bleeding. Not the few drops of blood they usually shed when they get kicked in the nose or something. No, she’s _bleeding._ From her stomach, where…

_No._

“Ahsoka,” he cries, dropping his lightsaber and running to her side as her knees buckle beneath her. That slash was never actually supposed to touch her. He overestimated the distance between them. He’d thought that — her saber couldn’t touch him, so he’d just _assumed_ that—

She’d bent her elbows. Looking back on it, he knows she did. She _always_ does. Why did she — he was the only one who —

Tears prickle at his eyes, and his chest tightens painfully. “I’m so sorry, Ahsoka. I didn’t—”

She smiles at him. It’s pained and force, but she still smiles. “It’s okay, Luke. It was an accident. It happens.”

 _Don’t say that,_ he wants to say. He won’t yell at her — not when this is all his fault — but he really wishes she wouldn’t do that. It’s not okay. He _hurt_ her, he could’ve actually killed her.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been cut by a lightsaber,” she tells him. “And it won’t be the last. And it’s a shallow wound, Luke. I’ll be okay. Just be more careful next time.” With one hand resting on his shoulder and the other on her stomach, Ahsoka gets to her feet. She doesn’t put any of her weight on him, doesn’t push against the ground or anything. She just… _stands._

Not for the first time — or, likely, the last — Ahsoka amazes him. She is the only person he knows who could stand from what is possibly a fatal wound, take the time to pick up her lightsabers, and _walk away._ She’s hunched over tellingly, so he knows she’s in pain. He can see the blood falling from her hands, but she’s still walking, still smiling, still Ahsoka.

And suddenly, he thinks as he runs after her, slipping her arm over his shoulder to support her, it doesn’t seem that unbelievable. All of the tales of the ex-Jedi who did all of those incredible things, always picking her head up even when others would’ve thrown in the towel — he no longer has any trouble believing them.

Ahsoka is, without a doubt, one of the coolest people to ever exist. And he swears he’ll be just like her one day.

* * *

**fifty-five.**

Rey doesn’t have a favorite grandparent.

Ben clearly favors their granddad, which she can’t fault him for. Anakin has a history of sins that have changed his life and ended others, but he is a great man, one she loves dearly. There’s an unfathomable strength that comes from being in his presence. Being in his arms, or by his side, makes her feel safer than she does anywhere else. Nothing can touch her when she’s with him, because Anakin Skywalker is nothing if not protective. He keeps guard for those he cherishes, holds them close to his heart for safekeeping. He is what a Jedi was never supposed to be: passionate, loving, furious, and unrestrained. She feels it in every hug, after every nightmare, with every tear.

(She isn’t supposed to tell anyone about his nightmares. About the nights when he wakes up with his heart in his throat and tears falling down his cheeks. Even Grandma and Grandpa don’t know. They’re always asleep when he sneaks out of bed, venturing into the living room to find his insomniac granddaughter peering up at him curiously. They’re never there to witness him break down and pull her into his chest, whispering in between sobs about how, “ _I almost missed this. I almost gave this up_ — _I’m so sorry, Rey, I love you_ —” She never knows what he’s apologizing for, never knows what he means. But she feels the agony and relief battling for dominance within him, and she hugs him back with just as much fervor. Whatever he means, it doesn’t matter, because in reality, she’s _right here._ She’s here, she’s with him, and she’s always going to be here.)

There’s a sense of calm that comes from being with her grandpa. Obi-Wan Kenobi is not a flawless man. Even at ten, she knows that. There’s a mistake written in every line on his face, in every gray hair that hides between his brown locks, in every tired smile he gives her. He has made several mistakes, things he can never take back, but has learned from them. She thinks he grew from each and every one of them. He cherishes their family, too; not in the way that Granddad does. Not in bouts of fury and regret. He cherishes them with affection, clothes them in tenderness and wisdom that can’t be refuted.

It's not easy for him. She knows that sometimes he doesn’t want to face his past transgressions. Sometimes, it would just be easier to walk away from this, from _them_ , and start over elsewhere. She doesn’t think he ever will; ever _would_. But she knows that it must be tempting sometimes. On the nights when he argues with Grandma and Granddad, or with Auntie Ahsoka. Or on those days when he thinks no one is looking at him, and something painful burns itself across his face as he watches Grandma and Granddad stare adoringly at each other. Sometimes, he stares at them, as if searching for something.

(Belonging, she thinks. She knows that feeling. Which is stupid, because she’s only ten, and she has a family, but she still—)

But Grandma — Grandma is different. Padmé is something that neither of her husbands can reach. She is strong, yet soft. This galaxy, no matter what it has done to her, has not taken her beauty nor her gentle touch. She is not merciless, does not bear the ruthless mentality that Anakin, Leia and Ahsoka have, but she isn’t a pushover, either. She has no sympathy for those who harm others or attempt to hurt her family. She is not someone whose heart and soul can be explained with words; not in a way that’ll do her any justice. She is something altogether unique, something special that Rey doesn’t think will ever be duplicated.

Rey finds belonging in her grandmother. It’s in the warmth of her smile, and in the laughter in her voice when she braids Rey’s hair, and in the tenderness of the kiss she places on her forehead when she says goodnight. Love lingers in every touch and every glance, and that’s where Rey belongs. In her grandmother’s line of sight, because she can never feel cold or empty when she’s there.

It’s this understanding that pulls her from her Aunt Leia’s old room at almost 0500 hours. Their parents are letting her and Ben sleep over their grandparents' place for a few days, something Rey is more than happy about. She loves spending the night here, even if she does have to put up with Ben trying to steal everyone’s attention all the time. More than usual, that is. She loves being here, loves giving her parents time to themselves, loves spending time with her grandparents and Auntie Ahsoka, when she comes to visit.

She just finds it even harder to sleep when she’s here.

She knows that her insomnia isn’t anything to worry about. It’s something that her granddad struggles with, something that Aunt Leia deals with, something that even Ben deals with sometimes. It’s just something they have to live with, and she can deal with that, she just—

It’s dark, and she’s alone, and it’s bothering her, is all.

When she pads past her dad’s old room, she notices that Ben isn’t there. It doesn’t take her long at all to figure out where he is. And her heart sinks just a little bit when she does.

Her suspicions are confirmed when she pushes the door open to her grandparents’ room. This isn’t the first time her grandpa and granddad have left for work in the middle of the night. Sometimes, the Jedi have emergency meetings, or they have to patrol— things like that. And sometimes, they have to help Aunt Ahsoka. Her job as Fulcrum — liberating enslaved peoples and helping good leaders stop rebellions and riots before they can cause too much trouble — is hard, and it’s something she’s been doing on her own for years. Even though she’s more than capable, she still needs help sometimes.

Rey is _glad_ that her parents and grandparents help in any way they can. It’s who they are, what they do, and she loves them for that, but sometimes she misses them. Sometimes, when she wakes up in the middle of the night, and she wants to curl up at her granddad’s side, or read a book with her grandpa. It’s not Ahsoka’s fault, it’s—

“Rey?”

She blinks herself back to awareness. Ben is sitting up in their grandparents’ bed, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. His hair looks absolutely atrocious, even in the dark, and she bites back a giggle. They’re both too old to be crawling into their grandparents’ bed when they get like this, but it—it helps. Because Ben has a lot of nightmares, and Rey can’t sleep most of the time. And sometimes, just being with their grandparents wills the monsters away, and brings peace of mind like no other.

Rey also knows that her dad and aunts do it, too, sometimes. She thinks it helps all of them.

Grandma’s eyes flutter open in the darkness, and Rey feels more than sees when her gaze lands on her. “Can’t sleep?”

The ten year old shrugs and makes her way over to the bed. She slips in on the other side of her grandma, hiding beneath the cover. She closes her eyes and makes herself relax. She takes in the sound of Ben’s snoring and her grandma’s breaths evening out as she dozes back to sleep. She counts every inhale and exhale, takes comfort in their company, and finds herself struggling to open her eyelids.

She misses her granddad and her grandpa, but this — Grandma, and Ben, and a large bed with too much space and consciousness floating away — is enough. It’s more than enough.

* * *

**fifty-six.**

Plo Koon has a headache. They haven’t been on this planet for more than an hour, and he already needs a drink.

“…Ahsoka.”

“Yes, Master Plo?”

“Why is that building — the one, I believe, that you and Padawan Dume were supposed to be guarding — on fire?”

Ahsoka exchanges a glance with Caleb Dume, the Padawan of the other Jedi on this mission, and winces, holding her hands behind her back and smiling innocently up at him. “There _might_ have been a _small_ incident.”

“How small is small?”

The Padawans exchange another glance, then they both look away. He definitely needs a drink. Maybe two or three.

“Ahsoka.”

“There were these fireworks—”

On second thought, Plo Koon isn’t entirely sure he wants to know. He doesn’t even have the energy to be angry with them, because this isn’t surprising in the least. It’s his first time working with Depa Billaba’s Padawan, but he's come to expect nothing less from the apprentice of Anakin Skywalker. She’s too much like her Master to _not_ do something as outrageous as whatever it is that she’s done. He’s tuned her out by now, if for no other reason than to keep his headache from getting worse.

Apparently at the end of her story, she gives him another smile that is probably supposed to make him believe she hasn’t done anything wrong.

He takes a glance at the burning building, then back at the Padawans accusingly. Caleb blushes, clearing him throat. “…No one was in it?”

Plo _swears_ this is the last time he takes on a mission with these two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no excuse. i'm just gonna keep writing until i get out of this slump. also, fifty-three is the part two to thirty-seven. like i said, it's something that's happened in my family, and it's.. an incredibly mundane thing. i feel like sw has so many fast paced, super action-y things, that everyone kind of dismisses the possibility of absolutely human things happening to them. like, someone's appendix rupturing.
> 
> lmao, this gets more and more au with every chapter, goodbye.
> 
> in this au, i think ahsoka's body is, like... a map of scars. (i mean, this is... probably somewhat canon, too? ya girl got shot, tased, and then some. she probably has more than a few scars. unless bacta tanks completely erase scars? in which case... fuck.) and i just think she takes the wounds like a champ. which is not an unfounded belief because... did you guys see the onderon arc? she got shot and almost immediately dismissed the wound to check on steela. please don't try to tell me she isn't a warrior, okay, she is a fucking war goddess. anyway, she has a whole lot of wounds, and so many lightsaber scars. some from her fight with anakin and palpatine, some probably from her training as a padawan, some from other events. i just love scars so damn much tbh, and i can't shake the thought of ahsoka having a bunch of them. 
> 
> also, i've never written rey before, so i'm not sure how in character she was. i kind of wrote her the way that i was at ten: insomniac, and simply terrified of being alone. and idk why, but i just feel like ben had a lot of nightmares before he became kylo ren. nightmares of what, i don't know. maybe the dark side. maybe he had super anakin-esque nightmares that drove him to the dark side. idk. tell me what you guys think, though!
> 
> thanks for reading, fam. please drop a comment, if you feel comfortable doing so! all of your feedback means so much to me, and it reminds my dumb ass to keep writing, even when it don't have the will to do so. thank you, thank you, thank you. thank you to everyone who has messaged me here or on tumblr, to make requests or just to check on me, or just to comment. it makes my day every time. thank you so much.
> 
> catch you on the flip side, my dudes.


	10. and here we are, moving on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing is a process for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crickets*

**fifty-seven.**

Anakin Skywalker, somehow, has managed to look the same, even after all of these years. The lines that now mar Obi-Wan Kenobi’s face, stress and regret carving themselves into permanence, are only shadows on his. The faintness of them create the illusion that if one were to reach up and brush their thumb across them, they would wipe the lines from existence completely. It’s an admirable feat, considering the misery he’s caused others, and the grief he must’ve wrought on himself.

(She’s in no position to say this, of course. What happened between Anakin and Palpatine never became public knowledge, likely to protect the Jedi Order’s already failing reputation. She only knows about all of this from Ahsoka, which may or may not put her in a biased position.)

He still has the same startlingly blue eyes, and the same easy smile, and the same unbelievable charm. He almost looks as young as he is, the youthful appearance betrayed only by the haunted look in his eyes. If you didn’t look there, you would never know what he’s seen and done or how much it’s affected him.

To be fair, Riyo hasn’t changed that much herself. She’s still on the small side — a foot shorter than Anakin and an inch or two or three shorter than Ahsoka — with a deceptively innocent face. There’s still a softness there, a subtle contrast to Ahsoka’s sharpening features, and an everlasting light in her eyes that sometimes dims or fades out of existence in Ahsoka’s.

Sometimes, Riyo worries about her. She worried when they were fourteen, and she worries now, almost nine years later. Children were not made to go to war. Fourteen-year-old girls were not made to take a life and hear the words, _“Get over it_.”  Or worse, “ _Good job._ ” As if what they did was something to be honored and admired; as if the proper thing to do wasn’t to take a moment and mourn the innocence that was lost in the heat of an endless war.

As if Ahsoka didn’t spend days and weeks and months haunted by what she did. As if Ahsoka isn’t still haunted today.

“What can I do for you, Senator Chuchi?”

(Sometimes, Riyo worries about her.)

She smiles at General Skywalker, nodding to the seat across from her. He respectfully takes the offered seat, casting a quick glance to the steaming cup in front of him, but not taking it. She wonders if that’s because he isn’t thirsty, or because he doesn’t trust it. She’s met many veterans in her lifetime, and some of them had crueler experiences than others. People have been poisoned in subtler ways, some of them tell her. A kind drink is rarely just that, some of them believe.

She doesn’t blame them.

“It’s good to see you again, General Skywalker. It’s rare that we run into each other these days.”

Skywalker — a polite but not forced smile on his face — shrugs. “Who knew we’d be so busy?” It’s almost like a joke, this conversation. It isn’t as if they spoke a lot before Palpatine’s downfall, or in the years following it. They only ever see each other when he escorts Senator Amidala to meetings she happens to attend as well.

But those have been rather infrequent lately.

“Who knew,” Riyo echoes, a touch softer, her eyes on the delicate cup in her hand. “Indeed.”

There’s a slight pause, then: “Senator Chuchi?”

She stares at the cup for a moment more before locking eyes with the General. There’s genuine concern in his gaze, but not much. It’s a professional concern, she thinks. Years of having to defend and protect delegates from every little thing has left him perpetually on guard. It’s sad and humorous, all at once.

She doesn’t need that protection; she hasn’t in a long time. And she certainly doesn’t need it now.

“Do you love Ahsoka?”

His eyes widen, but her level stare never changes. She’s thought too much about this to back down because he’s prepared for a fight, but not to talk about his feelings. Jedi are all the same. “Excuse me?”

She allows a smile to form on her lips. “I know you only have eyes for Padmé.” And General Kenobi, but the only people oblivious to that seem to be the men in question, so she doesn’t say it aloud. “That isn’t what I meant. In all of the years you’ve been at Ahsoka’s side, after all of the time you’ve spent together — do you love her?”

There’s a conflict within him: what Skywalker believes, and what the Jedi believed. His life has been full of emotions he wasn’t allowed to feel, and things he wasn’t allowed to say until recently. He has never been the model Jedi; his relationship with Padmé is proof of that. But he still learned what they taught him. She expects resistance and denial, but it’s only a brief moment before he says, “Of course I do.” He says it with a sincerity and heaviness that she’s only seen in few others. It’s the same way Ahsoka responded when Riyo asked the same thing about him.

 _This,_ she thinks, _is what it looks like when you’ve fought for someone._

“I do, too.”

Skywalker seems more surprised by the change in focus than the actual confession. “I’m happy for you both, Senator Chuchi,” he says, instead of whatever he’s actually thinking. She isn’t sure she wants to know what he’s thinking. “She feels the same way about you.”

There, Riyo almost smirks. “I know. I didn’t call you here because of insecurity, General.”

“I don’t think you’ve been insecure in a long time,” he says with an almost genuine smile.

She smiles back. Her job doesn’t give her the room to doubt herself or her decisions. She has to be sure of everything she says and does. “Thank you.” She goes silent for a moment, wondering how to get back on topic. In the end, she settles with, “Is that okay with you?”

“Is what okay?”

“That I love her.” She taps her finger on the cup clutched in her hands, the dull rhythm almost inaudible, even in the quiet space between them. “That she loves me?”

Skywalker watches her with a dubious expression. “Are you asking for my blessing?”

Is she? She considers it. “In a way,” she concedes. “It is custom for Pantorans to meet the parents of their betrothed. If their family doesn’t approve, the marriage typically doesn’t take place. This situation is different, of course.” The corners of her mouth pull upward. “I don’t plan on proposing to her just yet.”

“And I’m not her father.”

“No.” She nods. “But you are the closest she has to one. You’re the most important person in her life. I’d be remiss to not ask for your blessing.”

“Maybe.” He sounds unsure, but the light in his eyes tells a different story. He’s _happy_ that she asked him. “But it’s like you said, Senator: you aren’t proposing.”

 _Maybe one day._ “No, I’m not. But what I want to do is just as important.”

As if triggered by her words, his expression is instantly guarded and distrusting. “And that is?”

“Help her,” she answers easily. She waits for the stony look to leave his expression before she continues. “Ahsoka was a child when she went into war. She hasn’t been that for a long time, but she still struggles with what she had to do. She…” Riyo hesitates. “I don’t think she’s handling it all well. I’ve seen and heard what happens when someone holds back the way she does.”

 _With you,_ she doesn’t say. She doesn’t _need_ to say it. It’s in his eyes: he’s thinking the same thing. People who hold back the way Ahsoka does end up becoming like Anakin Skywalker. They explode, hurting either themselves or everyone else.

“I don’t plan on breaking Ahsoka,” she clarifies. “While I do believe that some things heal best when broken first, I don’t think Ahsoka is the same.” It’s the opposite, actually. Ahsoka heals so well _because_ she doesn’t break. It’s the knowledge that she hasn’t broken that gives her the confidence to keep getting up. Riyo fears that if (when) she does break, she’ll remain that way. It’s easier to fix fractures than it is to piece together something that has been shattered. “I want her to heal as she is. Not starting from the ground up, but from here.”

Why start from the ground, when she is already resting on a mountaintop?

Skywalker doesn’t speak, so she continues. “I suppose I’m not asking for your blessing, exactly. What I’m asking is for your trust. You are the most important person in her life, and she is one of the most important people in yours. All I’m asking is for you to trust me with her.”

“ _All_ you ask,” he parrots, a touch incredulous. She doesn’t think he meant to say it aloud, but she doesn’t blame him. It can’t be easy, handing over something as precious as Ahsoka, and trusting someone you barely to take care of her. Riyo isn’t sure she could do it.

“All I ask.”

His shoulders sink, and something crosses his expression that steals the youthfulness from it. The look doesn’t fit him. A man like him should not be associated with darkness. And yet, when Riyo looks at him now, that’s all she sees. “Ahsoka is an adult now,” he says at length. “Regardless of what I say, she will make her own decisions. She’d punch me for even _thinking_ about trying to make it for her.”

“She would,” Riyo hums in agreement, taking a sip of her tea. “But I am not Ahsoka, and I don’t plan on telling her.”

Skywalker’s lips twitch. “I didn’t think you would.” He quiets for a moment, and Riyo allows it. She realizes how much this is to ask of him. It isn’t a decision that can be made in the span of two seconds. She will give him as much time as he needs. “You won’t break her.”

It’s not a question.

“Never.”

Skywalker nods, his expression hard and unforgiving. “And if she tells you to back off, you will.”

“Of course. I’m only doing what’s best for her, General Skywalker. Forcing her would be counterproductive.”

Another beat passes before his features soften, almost reluctantly. “Then I trust you.”

A tension she didn’t know she held flees from her body, and she smiles gratefully at him. “I will do my best not to betray that trust.”

Skywalker hums, eyes examining her expression. She lets him, bringing her cup to her lips again. “And if I’d said I didn’t approve of any of this? Would you have put an end to your relationship?”

She pauses in her movements, bringing her cup back down a little, allowing an almost mischievous grin to form. His tone says he already knows the answer to the question. “Of course not.”

* * *

**fifty-eight.**

“I don’t _need_ your help!”

The words ring in the air after she says them. And while the regret isn’t immediate, it’s a near thing. The rage she feels is suddenly sapped from her, and the victory she thought screaming would bring no longer feels like victory at all. Because Luke looks an _awful_ lot like he’s about to cry, and this heaviness in her chest, it _hurts._ It takes her a minute to realize that the hurt she feels isn’t hers. By the time she does, Luke has already pushed out of the room, tears still in his eyes as he ignores Ahsoka’s calls.

Ahsoka turns confused, worried eyes on her, and Leia squares her shoulders so as to not shrink away from the look. She is a Skywalker; she does not run away from anything, not even her own mistakes.

And this was her mistake. As often as she and Luke fight, there is always a line. They are too aware of each other’s feelings, which is a blessing and a curse. _Because_ they know each other so well, they know exactly what buttons to push to make the other fall apart. _Because_ they know each other so well, they know better than to push those buttons. And in moments like this, it’s that much harder to resist.

She made a mistake. What she said was a low blow, and she knew it when she said it. Luke doesn’t feel _inadequate_ compared to the rest of the family, but he doesn’t see himself on equal ground. He thinks of himself as being on a different plane; just as strong, but in a different way.

Necessity is a different thing.

He doesn’t feel like he _isn’t_ needed. But being told that he isn’t is one of the easiest ways to take that strength and reduce it to nothingness. She knew what she was doing when she said those words, but for the love of it, she can’t think of _why_ she said it.

She wanted to hurt him. Logically, she knows that. But it makes no sense. She never wants to hurt Luke. He’s everything to her. And after everything he’s done, and all of the pain he’s endured for her since they were kids, he doesn’t deserve any sort of pain. She loves her brother, she does, so —

What was she thinking?

“Leia?” Her eyes snap up to her father, who now stands next to Ahsoka. She doesn’t remember him entering the room. “What happened?”

Isn’t that the question of the hour? She swallows her uncertainty. “We had a difference of opinions.” It isn’t a _lie_ , but it’s certainly putting it lightly.

Neither her father nor his best friend look happy with her answer, but through a silent exchange of glances, they agree not to push. “Are you okay,” Ahsoka asks.

 _It’s not me I’m worried about._ She _means_ to say, “I’m fine, Ahsoka. Stop looking at me like that.” But what she ends up saying, however, is, “Where did Luke go?”

Ahsoka and Father exchange another look and she wishes they wouldn’t do that. If they are having a conversation in her presence, likely about her, she would like to weigh in on it. Is it this annoying when she and Luke do that? “Han is with him,” her dad answers, and… _oh._

That kind of hurts.

It’s not as serious as she feels. Leia knows that. This isn’t Han choosing Luke over her. And even if it were — shouldn’t she be satisfied with that? Isn’t that what she and Luke spent the last ten minutes arguing over? She wanted Luke to have an equal chance with Han, if not a better one. It’s the least he deserves.

So why does it hurt?

She takes a breath, storing her feelings in a place where she can’t reach them and they can’t hurt her, and she nods. “Of course.”

Maybe it isn’t the right thing to say. The look on her father’s face tightens. “Leia—”

“It’s fine, Daddy,” she cuts him off, and inwardly curses herself for the slip up. Her mother always said she had a tell. “Dad? _Father_.” It’s a war within herself, what she wants to call him. _Daddy,_ because she needs him. _Dad,_ because she doesn’t understand any of this. _Father,_ because she needs to be in control. She has no right to lose control. “This is between Luke and I. Please—” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t know how she wants that sentence to end.

Her dad stares back at her before nodding. He glances over at Ahsoka again, then gives his daughter a soft smile. “Why don’t we go flying?”

Leia nods, perhaps more enthusiastically than she should. Flying is freedom; it’s escaping this world, and every other world; it’s being above the fighting, the anger, the tears, the loneliness, the confusion — flying takes her away from all of that, puts her above it all. Flying makes her invincible.

Flying is something she knows. Flying is an escape she desperately needs.

* * *

  **fifty-nine.**

Obi-Wan isn’t surprised that it’s Luke who finds him. Ever since he was a child, he’s always found his way to Obi-Wan’s side, for one reason or another. When he wanted to be held; when his mother said he couldn’t have something; when he was happy; when he was heartbroken. Luke is truly a child who doesn’t have a favorite parent, and still finds a way to make all three of his parents feel like they’re his favorite.

Obi-Wan has secretly always liked that feeling.

“How is she,” he asks, stepping forward to meet his son.

Luke smiles, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “She’s exhausted, but Mom said that’s how it always feels.”

“I missed your birth, too, so I wouldn’t know.” And if Obi-Wan is smirking right then, he trusts Luke not to tattle. He gives his child a once over, something sad and sympathetic in his gaze. “How are you?”

The young man shrugs, never losing his smile. “I never imagined Leia having children. I knew she would eventually. But now that she has, I’m actually kind of surprised.”

Obi-Wan gives the boy an even look. “You and I both know that’s not what I meant.” Asking him how he’s dealing with his daughter having a child with the only man he’s ever loved is too callous, but Obi-Wan hopes Luke understands anyway. No, he knows he does.

Luke doesn’t answer for a moment. “We ended things a long time ago, Papa,” he says, though that isn’t exactly true. It has been a few years since Luke walked away from the semi-open relationship he had with Han, but neither of them are happier for it. Han has married Leia since then, and the two of them are happy, but the feeling he harbored for Luke never left. And Luke walked away for his sister’s benefit, not because the love he felt for Han was gone.

The two of them, although leading their own lives now, still yearn for each other, even if only in some small way. Obi-Wan doesn’t think they’ve healed, but they continue to live on as if they have. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

Luke brightens, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh, yeah. Leia wouldn’t let anyone in the room until we were all here. You’re the last to show up.” His mouth widens into a grin, bright and genuine, as if completely unbothered by all of this. And maybe he is. “Come on! We can finally meet the baby.” He doesn’t wait for his father to follow, simply turns on his heel and starts back towards the hospital room. Obi-Wan follows without a word.

He can’t help but frown, walking these halls again. As a general, and as a father, and a lover, he’s been here too many times. Though he has nothing against the healers here, he truly hates this place.

All eyes turn to them when the two men reach the hall outside of Leia’s room. Han is the only person missing. Upon laying eyes on him, Anakin grins. “What took you so long?”

Ahsoka doesn’t look so amused. She crosses her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose.”

He sort of _is_ , but she isn’t supposed to know that. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Ahsoka, but you missed the twins’ birth, too, did you not?”

“She also got here five minutes ago,” Luke tells him.

Ahsoka looks away innocently. “So we can go in now, right? Everyone’s here now.”

“Smooth, Snips.”

Ahsoka shoves Anakin away from the door and steps forward until it slides open. They all follow her in, Luke being the last to enter the room. Any residual negativity resting in him in seems to disappear as he does, and he hurries to his sister’s bedside. Han’s eyes follow him, but Luke doesn’t meet his gaze. He grins as the newborn in Leia’s arms. “He’s so tiny. Hey, buddy,” he coos, his eyes shining as he smiles at his nephew.

“How do you feel,” Padmé asks her daughter, brushing hair out of her hair. It’s a tender touch, one that only a mother could manage. Leia presses into it, still panting slightly from the long hours of childbirth.

“I’m never doing that again,” the young woman answers, drawing laughs from most of the others. Luke is too preoccupied chatting with the baby to contribute to the conversation. Watching him, Anakin smiles the way he does when he thinks no one is around to witness his sappiness.

“Imagine doing that twice in one day,” Padmé mutters, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

“What’s his name,” Ahsoka asks, her eyes landing on Luke and the baby.

Han and Leia look to each other, and he gives an odd sort of shrug, as if passing off some responsibility. “Ben,” Leia says. For a moment, Obi-Wan thinks he’s been demoted from _papa_ to _Ben_ , then he realizes that that isn’t what this is at all.

“You named him Ben?” Someone asks, but Obi-Wan isn’t entirely sure who.

Leia watches him for a moment, then looks up at her brother. “Luke, take him,” she orders, to everyone’s surprise. When Luke doesn’t move, she gives him a hard look. He reaches down, taking the baby carefully, then sitting on the edge of the bed. Obi-Wan feels a frightening sense of déjà vu. It doesn’t feel like it was too long ago that Ahsoka sat in that spot, staring at Luke the exact same way.

Obi-Wan decidedly does _not_ get choked up seeing it. He’s still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Leia named her firstborn after him.

Leia sits up straighter, with notable difficulty. “We bounced around names for a while, but it seemed most fitting.” Obi-Wan _wants_ to ask why, but he can’t open his mouth. Or maybe he hasn’t closed it. He’s a bit numb from shock. “He already has your blood,” she says to Anakin and Padmé, and presumably to Luke, who is in tears, but still engaged in one-sided conversation with Ben. _Ben._ “We wanted him to have something of you, too.”

“Would you have named him Ahsoka if he’d been a girl?” Anakin asks jokingly.

“Close,” Han answers, as serious as he ever gets in non-life threatening situations. Ahsoka lets out choked noise full of emotion, and Obi-Wan feels _exactly_ how she sounds. It shouldn’t be this big of a deal, having his grandson named after him. But it _is._ It’s a feeling he can’t describe: warmth and tenderness, love and honor, and a lot of fear, too. He doesn’t want this baby to be like him. He wants Ben to be much better than him. He wants Ben to be better than any of them ever were.

He’ll make sure that he is.

“If anything happens to Han and I, we’ve decided that Ben will be placed in Luke or Ahsoka’s care,” Leia continues, and Luke finally looks up. Leia meets his gaze, and something is said there, but only the two of them know what. She looks to Ahsoka. “There’s no one we trust more to take care of him.”

Ahsoka smiles at her, eyes wet but tears unshed, and nods. “Let’s hope it never comes to that.”

“This is Leia we’re talking about,” Han comments dryly. “Does she _look_ like she plans on letting that happen?”

She doesn’t, not in the least, but no one says that. They all look to Obi-Wan instead, and he realizes that he _still_ hasn’t said anything. He still doesn’t know _what_ to say. A sharp, _mechanical_ elbow digging into his stomach forces him out of his stupor. He throws Anakin a dirty look, then turns his eyes back to his daughter and son-in-law. “With you as his mother, I think young Ben will be just fine.”

While Leia beams, Han looks slightly affronted. “And his father?”

Obi-Wan bites back a laugh, fixing Han with a blank look. “I’m sure you’ll do your best.”

* * *

**sixty.**

Shili stays warm throughout the year. When closest to the sun, it’s sweltering, but it never actually reaches _cold_ territory. Sometimes, if she squints hard enough, Ahsoka can see the invisible waves of heat in front of her, something that doesn’t often happen on other planets. The inhabitants of the planet don’t bat so much as an eyelash at the temperature, simply moving about their day as if this is normal. And for them, it is. For Ahsoka, the heat proves to be a bit distracting.

The constant heat leaves no room for robes or heavy clothing. The clothing Ahsoka wore when she arrived didn’t fit into either of those categories, but she’d still been forced into a new outfit upon arrival. While it is no more or less revealing than her previous one, it’s a lot thinner, and does a better job of keeping her cool during the day. It’s off-white, a stark change from the red she and Anakin always wore when together.

_Anakin._

She thinks of him sometimes, despite her best efforts not to. It isn’t that she no longer cares for him, or that she thinks he betrayed her, too. Chasing her after the bombing and the attack was his job. He didn’t have a _choice._ He and Padmé were the only ones who believed in her when everything else went bad. Ahsoka has nothing against Anakin, or the thought of him, but he makes it so much _harder_ to be here. Two years by his side, always having his back, knowing he always had hers; two years by his side, joking with him, laughing with him, fighting with him, fighting him; _two years with him,_ and she walked away from it.

She doesn’t regret her decision, but she misses him almost enough to make her rethink it.

There is no place in the Jedi Order for her anymore; she knows that. What lies between them and her is a bridge of trust that they’d burnt without so much as a lick of remorse until it was too late for it to make a difference. The Jedi Order is nothing but a painful memory, an open wound where there should be a scar that’d long since stitched itself back together. (She’s supposed to be tougher than this.) It’s all that she ever strived for, and all that she swears to never be. It’s the lasting impression of a broken heart.

But it wasn’t the Order that she’d been there for. It was Anakin and Obi-Wan and Padmé and Barriss and Plo Koon. It was Rex and Cody and Fives and being in battle with a legion of men who would never let her down. It was stale food and teasing remarks and an uncomfortable bed two doors down from Anakin’s (not that he was ever in it). It was a warm smile and a pointed look and an arm around her shoulders that anchored itself there and felt unmistakably like _home._

More than anything, she misses _that._ She doesn’t miss one person individually. She misses a circle of people, a medley of voices, a palette full of eye colors and hair dyes. She misses the people and the adventures and the feelings that made all of the death and fear and anger and humiliation and regret worth it. She misses the core experiences that made the Jedi Order feel like home.

But she walked away from it. And she knows better than to go back.

“Daughter?”

It takes her a moment to realize she’s being addressed. The single word is spoken in Shili’s native tongue, one that she’s slowly learning. Most people don’t speak it to her or around her, because she doesn’t always understand. The Togruta here are a kind folk, and balk at the rudeness of being in the same room as someone and excluding them from a conversation. Ahsoka isn’t a big fan of it, either, but she wouldn’t ask the people not to speak their own language on her account. Still, the consideration is nice.

The woman who spoke isn’t her mother. She is one of the women of the village, the one assigned to help Ahsoka with the chores today. As a guest, Ahsoka isn’t _required_ to do anything, least of all chores in a heat that she isn’t used to. But jobs provide healthy distractions from the cyclical thoughts of where she _should_ be, where she _can’t_ be, who she _wants_ to call, but is determined _not to._ And because she’s only been here for a few weeks and doesn’t know the layout of the land, she has been advised against walking around on her own. It is too easy to get lost here, and falling prey to one of the world’s hidden dangers would be a terrible way to die.

 _Every way is a terrible way to die,_ Ahsoka sometimes thinks, whenever reminded of the conversation. _Living is always the better alternative._ But she’s always been a survivor; she might be slightly biased.

Ahsoka turns to face the woman who stands in the door of the room the former Jedi is occupying during her stay. “Coming! What are we doing today?” Spoken in the foreign tongue, the words fall clumsily from her lips: smoother than they sounded a week ago, but still far choppier than that of the natives’.

If the woman — Rahla — finds offense in Ahsoka’s fumbling words, she doesn’t show it. She smiles, stepping to the side so Ahsoka can exit the room. “Hunting,” she says. Togruta, while having long outgrown the stereotype of violently hunting for food, are still carnivorous. When they hunt, it is for tradition, rather than necessity. If Ahsoka is hunting today, it’s to celebrate their acceptance of her as one of them. She can’t say she doesn’t feel a bit warmer, knowing that.

She smiles, unable to stamp down on her excitement. “Really? Is it just as us?”

Rahla shakes her head, leading Ahsoka away from the house she’s staying in. “My brother and sister will be joining us.” _Brother_ and _sister_ are rather ambiguous. They could be Rahla’s actual siblings, or simply people in her age group. On Shili, everyone is considered to be family. Ahsoka is _daughter_ to everyone at least ten years older than her, and _sister_ to everyone else. She has yet to find her actual family, but every mother and father, brother and sister, aunt and uncle she encounters makes it a little harder to be bothered by that. “It is best if at least four people go on every hunting trip.”

The Jedi in Ahsoka — the confident soldier who’s fought in more battles than years she’s been alive, and refuses to believe anything can touch her; or, as Obi-Wan calls that side of her: Anakin — now desperately wants to prove that she doesn’t need _any_ help on her hunt, but the more rational side of her — affectionately called Padmé — keeps her from saying that. She doesn’t know all of the customs and traditions of her people; if they want her to hunt in a group, then she will. The longing for a place to call home runs so hot, so deep, so powerful, she will do anything to reach it.

(Desperation and loneliness are _horrible_ things.)

* * *

**sixty-one.**

“ _That’s_ the one you found?” Ben drags disinterested eyes up and down Finn’s frame. The man in question remains oblivious to the scrutiny, chatting animatedly with their grandpa. The two of them seem to have some history Rey doesn’t know about. Finn was almost in tears upon seeing Obi-Wan, and the man seemed to have de-aged ten years since seeing him. It’s a beautiful, if not horribly confusing, thing.

Poe — one of the two people who never minces words when it comes to Ben; Rey is the other — glares at her cousin. He has that look in his eye that he gets whenever he’s considering violently disposing of him. Rey knows that’s what he’s doing, because they’ve both argued and bonded over it. She doesn’t like _anyone_ looking at her family that way, but Ben tends to have that effect on people. “Don’t look at him like that.”

Ben — used to the venom Poe usually directs towards him — tears his gaze from Finn to raise an eyebrow at the pilot. “Like what?”

“Like he’s less than you.” Poe draws himself up to his full height, as if daring Ben to fight him. Considering Ben is at _least_ three inches taller than him, it’s not as threatening as Poe is going for, but Rey has learned from experience that telling him this won’t end well for anyone involved. “He’s a good man.”

“You two knew each other for ten minutes, crash landed on a planet from my grandfather’s nightmares, and told everyone the other was dead. You have no idea if he’s a good man.” Rey chokes down a laugh. As much as she and Ben argue, he’s _right._ “And that wasn’t what I was thinking.”

Rey pauses in the act of taking food from his plate. “Then what were you thinking?”

Ben tracks his gaze back to Finn, then gives them an annoyed look. "What makes you think I’m not staring for the same reason you are?”

Rey’s eyes widen, and Poe bristles. “ _Don’t look at him like that!”_

* * *

**sixty-two.**

“Daddy, I think you’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

On the list of Things Anakin Does Not Need Right Now, Leia’s judgment is very close to the top. If he’d known that braiding hair was this hard, he wouldn’t have tried. But Padmé makes it look like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and Ahsoka had acted as if the idea of Anakin Skywalker learning to do his daughter’s hair was the most outrageous thing in the galaxy.

It’s _not._ He can _do this._

Except: he isn’t sure that he _can_. He can’t remember which bunch of hair goes where. Does the right lap over into the middle now? Or is it the left? Which one goes under? Do any of them go under? Anakin has tried several different techniques, most of which would’ve killed several men by now, but none of them have had the desired effect. Leia’s hair is looking more and more like a wreck, and Anakin is no closer to being satisfied.

He makes a mental note to never mock Padmé’s hair ever again. If she can manage to do this every day, on herself _and_ Leia, he no longer has any room to make fun.

Luke, stationed at the table with an art book and a few coloring pens, looks up and giggles at his dad’s lack of progress. He’s already a terror that Anakin is struggling to deal with. His cuteness is a nice cover, but he’s a piece of work, same as his sister. He has a habit of putting on his parents’ clothes, and seems to become hard of hearing whenever he hears the word _no._ He lacks Leia’s sarcasm and judgement, but he has all of her sass and wit. Anakin honestly _loves_ having kids.

“They always go back the middle, Daddy,” the twins chorus, neither of them looking up at him. He has no idea why the two of them are better at braiding hair than he is, but they turn out to be right. He beams at the almost complete braid, confident that he can finish it without incident. “And don’t pull too tight,” Leia reminds him.

“So you said,” Anakin mumbles, finishing off the braid. He secures it at the bottom, and steps back to admire his work. “It looks great.”

Ahsoka scoffs, almost choking on her drink. “Of course _you’d_ say that, Skyguy. You made it.”

Anakin gives her a crooked grin, not letting her words get to him. “I guess I’m just that good.”

“Anakin, you needed your five-year-old twins to tell you how to do it. And it took you twice as long as it takes the average person. You’re not _that good_ , you’re sad.”

He sputters indignantly, betrayed by the laughter of his children. “Don’t you have literally _anywhere else_ to be?”

“Nowhere that’d be as much fun as this.”

“ _Well, go anyway._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really have anything to say here this time. i'm pretty sure i've said that before and _still_ made a long author's note. but i mean it this time, my mind is blank. hooray for the mega update, though?
> 
> if there's one thing i want to comment on, it's riyo. i've never written from her pov before, so this is new to me, but i have a few more snippets planned for her, and i'm lowkey excited for them. if you have anything you want her to do, let me know. as for the scene with ben, he wasn't really checking finn out. i mean.... he could've been. if that's what you want to believe. idk man, you do you.
> 
> thank you for reading, guys! please leave a comment, if you want to! you can find me on tumblr @ andrwminycrds, if you have any questions or requests, or if you just wanna scream with me about ahsoka tano. thank you so much for all of your feedback and support! have a good one!


	11. sinners and saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been said that history has a way of repeating itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so, so sorry. it's almost 3 am, so i'm not going to spend a long time making excuses. i'm just really sorry this took so long; things have been so busy and so bad for me, and it was so hard to work up the will to write anything.
> 
> i just sort of got inspiration for this a few days ago, and now that i have my muse back, i should be able to update this quicker. i won't make any promises, though, because... yikes.

**sixty-three.**

The first time Padmé is called mom, it’s a joke laden with sarcasm and she’s not even pregnant yet.

It’s one of the rare lazy days in the shared lives of she, Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, and they waste no time taking advantage of it. Anakin and Obi-Wan have been standing over the stove, bickering over what they want to cook for so long, she’s not entirely sure they’re going to cook _anything._ She’ll intervene if too much time passes without any actual cooking being done, but she figures she can let them play for a while.

Besides, it would be a bit difficult to move Ahsoka from her lap.

She’s not sleeping, Padmé notes. She’s laid across the couch, head pillowed on the woman’s lap, eyes closed but sluggishly opening every so often. It’s not that Ahsoka _can’t_ sleep; she just doesn’t want to. She’s childlike in that manner; always so sure that she has a never-ending well of energy, stubbornly denying herself sleep until she simply can’t, anymore.

It’s one of the few childlike qualities the Jedi Order haven’t trained out of her.

Oh, Padmé has some resentment built up against them. If what they made of Ani wasn’t enough of a reason, then what they do to Ahsoka is. She’s a child, just like all of the others were when they became Jedi, caught up in a mess too big for her. She takes it in stride, no doubt. She handles it so much better than Padmé would have ever been able to, but that doesn’t change how _wrong_ it is. She doesn’t get to be a teenager, not even in their times of peace.

But it’s a lazy day for them, and those are not made for getting angry on someone else’s behalf.

Padmé leans her head back against the couch, basking in the quiet but familiar atmosphere of being alone with Ahsoka with the boys arguing in the kitchen.

Quiet, until something literally breaks it.

There’s a brief moment of quiet, before— “ _Anakin!_ ”

From her lap, Ahsoka snorts, throwing a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Between her snickering and Anakin and Obi-Wan’s arguing, it’s _hard_ for Padmé to remember that this is her family, and she loves them. She tries her hardest to center herself, take herself back to that happy place she was just in.

“You made me drop it! Wait, O— _Obi-Wan, you’re going to burn it!_ ”

“Burn _what_ , Anakin, nothing is cooking!”

“Except maybe _the house!_ ”

Ahsoka _wheezes._

“Ahsoka,” Padmé says, clearly and slowly, “tell them to get out of my kitchen.”

Another snicker, and the girl is pushing herself up from the couch, suddenly wide awake. “ _Ooh,_ Skyguy, you made mom mad!”

Anakin squawks indignantly from the kitchen. “Why am _I_ in trouble? _Obi-Wan started it!_ ”

“Yes, Anakin, because you’re _never_ to blame.”

“I’m not!”

Sending Ahsoka doesn’t seem to help at all. In fact, Padmé is pretty sure things get worse when she enters the kitchen. But she laughs the entire time she’s there, even drawing a laugh or two from Obi-Wan, while Anakin struggles to defend himself.

Nothing _else_ breaks, so Padmé smiles and lets them have their fun for a few more minutes.

They might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

* * *

  **sixty-four.**

“Hi,” the girl says, “I’m pretty sure you’re dead.”

Qui-Gon feels his lips twitch slightly, fondness and amusement in his gaze. “I am. I have been for a while.”

The girl — Leia, he recalls Obi-Wan calling her — stares for a moment before nodding. “You’re one with the Force.”

It’s — a very beautiful, simplistic way of seeing it. It’s true, at least. Considering she can’t be any more than six, he doubts she understands completely, but she puts on a good face. And even a basic understanding is better than nothing. “I am,” he repeats, for lack of a better response.

Her gaze is piercing, if not a little unnerving. He’s _dead_ , and he’s still never felt so vulnerable to someone seeing through him. “Uncle Ben says the Force only shows us things when we need it.”

Qui-Gon takes a moment to consider those words. It’s not _necessarily_ true. He knows Ani could’ve done without the visions. But he isn’t quite sure how to explain that to a six year old. He likes to think he’s good with younglings, but telling one that her father was tormented by Force visions for so long, it drove him near insanity is _slightly_ above his paygrade.

For now, he thinks, it’s better to just go with it.

“That’s right.” He kneels down in front of her. She eyes him warily but stays put. “Do you need something then, young one?”

Leia’s strong gaze falters for just a moment. She tips her head to the side, peering at him curiously. Then she straightens, nodding firmly. “I need a nap.”

While it’s a perfectly reasonable thing for a child her age to say, she sounds like an old woman worn out by the troubles of the world around her. He has to bite back a smile. “Do you now?”

She nods again. “Tell me a story.”

“About?”

Her small shoulders lift in a shrug. “The Force will tell you.”

He’s a bit tempted to tell her that the Force doesn’t really do that, but he doesn’t see any reason to right now. “Alright,” he agrees, smiling at the way she brightens. She’s mature for her age, but she’s still a child.

He nods towards her bed, watching as she picks herself up from the floor and crawls into bed. She buries herself under her cover, poking her head and arms out after a few seconds where he thinks she might’ve fallen asleep. Her eyes are already drooping, her breathing slowing down. She’s already losing the battle against sleep; she needs just another push.

He sits on the bed beside her legs, searching for a story to tell. This was never part of the job as a Jedi. They were meant to keep a distance, not tell bedtime stories. But what does it matter now? He’s dead. And things are different for the Jedi now. A story won’t bring punishment upon either of them.

Now it’s just a matter of _what_ to tell her.

Soon, he settles on a tale, a smile on his face. “There was once a man who called himself Maul. Now, your Uncle Ben was _not_ a fan…”

* * *

  **sixty-five.**

As time passed, Barriss Offee seemed relatively unaffected.

She’s taller and thinner now, maybe, but it isn’t as if prison food is the most filling. Her hair is thin, too, framing her face in limp strands. Her eyes are dark and empty, holding no more remorse than they did all those years ago. She moves gracefully, more like a dancer than a Jedi, even when being pushed around by guards who have no concern for criminals.

All in all, she looks just fine.

Riyo is disappointed. She was hoping that she’d spent these years _rotting_.

She doesn’t bother to hide her distaste as Barriss is seated in front of her. Guards stand at the wall behind her, and two more on either side of the door. It’s a bit much, especially considering Barriss can’t do anything and Riyo can protect herself, but she knows better than to try to argue. That’s a battle she’ll never win.

“Senator Riyo Chuchi.” Barriss looks her up and down, a little shocked but overall disinterested. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You don’t. I’m afraid this isn’t a social call, Barriss Offee.”

“How surprising,” the ex-Jedi mutters in a dull tone. Then, she smirks. “I suppose you’re here about Ahsoka?”

Riyo is more than a little thrown off by the fact that she guessed so easily, but she doesn’t show it. She only lifts an eyebrow.

“She was quite fond of you when we were kids,” Barriss continues. “She spoke about you so much, it was a shame I never got to meet you myself. It felt like we were already the best of friends. I assume you know what I mean.”

Riyo hums. “I can’t say I do.”

She does her best not to give her anything, but Barriss finds something amusing in her response anyway. She laughs. “Of course not. It’s been so long.” Her voice takes on a quieter tone. There’s a long moment of silence, before she speaks again. “Does she still think of me?”

There’s no right way to answer that. The answer Riyo wants to give — the one that would truly hurt Barriss, though not even a fraction of how much she hurt Ahsoka — would be a lie, and yet the truth is too generous. She settles for middle ground. “You almost ruined her life. She lost everything because of you. We _all_ suffered because of you. That’s not something she can ever forget.”

Barriss searches her gaze for something, perhaps finding nothing. “You seem to be under the impression that I betrayed her for _fun_ , Senator Chuchi.”

Riyo thought that was obvious. “I think I speak for everyone when I say that’s what it seems like you did, Miss Offee.”

Barriss shakes her head. “I didn’t — Ahsoka was my friend. I would never put her at risk, just because I can.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

The prisoner’s eyes narrow defensively. “I was doing the right thing.”

“And so was Palpatine, then,” Riyo says, her voice quiet but strained. She’s steadily losing sight of her diplomatic training. She’s supposed to be better than this. She thought she would be able to handle sitting across from this woman; she thought she could sit here and speak to her, knowing that she would always have the higher ground. But something about being here, looking at her and knowing what she did — hearing that she thought she was in the right — just makes her so _angry._

Ahsoka didn’t deserve this. She deserved so much better.

“He—” Barriss’ mouth clamps shut. “I wanted to save people.”

Riyo lets out a bark of humorless laughter. “I’ve met countless people in your position, Miss Offee, and they all seem to say the same thing. You never wanted to _save_ anyone,” she spits. Her voice rises with every word she says, until she’s almost _yelling_ , her voice filling the small room. “You wanted to serve justice _your_ way. The system no longer worked for you, so you had to change it. You found fault, and instead of acting like a Jedi, or like anyone with sense, you thought vigilantism — no, you thought _murder_ was the way to go. You were selfish and _childish_ , and you acted in your own interest. You might not have had the same goal as Palpatine, but you acted the same. You are _no_ different.”

“I _am_ different! I would’ve bailed her out; I would’ve helped her!”

“You should’ve never let her take the fall in the first place,” Riyo snaps. “You didn’t betray Ahsoka because it was fun, you did it because she was _convenient._ You knew her better than anyone, and you knew just how to lead her where you wanted her to go. She would’ve never suspected you, and you used that to your advantage.”

“No,” Barriss says, pushing away from the table. “You’re wrong.”

But Riyo is relentless. She’s held her tongue for so long, never having anyone to take this out on. Finally, she does. Barriss Offee, the reason Ahsoka has suffered so much, is right in front of her, and it’s past time someone said it. “You call her your friend, but she didn’t mean anything to you, did she? She was a means to an end, and you had no problem exploiting that. Palpatine did the _exact_ same thing to Anakin Skywalker. You might think your _justice_ is different, but you were just following a script someone had been writing long before you even began.”

She can’t stop herself from glaring at the end of her rant, holding Barriss’ gaze fearlessly. The guards shift behind them, but neither of the women look away from each other. The other woman stares, wide-eyed and speechless, before glancing away. “I can see why she liked you so much,” she says, after a tense silence passes. “If not for her crush on Senator Bonteri, I think she would have loved you even then.”

Riyo isn’t so blind as to not notice her changing the subject. But she isn’t here to argue. Barriss is giving her an out, and she’ll take it. She takes a moment to compose herself, then speaks neutrally. “Her relationship with Senator Bonteri, then and now, is none of my business.”

“Isn’t it?”

Riyo clenches her jaw. She doesn’t like where this is going. “Miss Offee—”

“With all due respect, Senator,” Barriss says with the air of someone who doesn’t give a damn about respect, “do you honestly think you’re the first?”

She stops. “Excuse me?”

Barriss leans forward, catching Riyo’s eye once again. “You think you’re the first person she’s loved? The first to _love her_?”

So much for composure. “You think you loved her? You almost got her killed! You _killed people_ and framed her for it! That’s not _love_ , that’s manipulation.”

The criminal grinds her teeth. “I was a child—”

“Maybe,” Riyo agrees, tightly gripping her knees. She’s here as a Senator; she’s here for Ahsoka. She can’t make things worse. But she isn’t going to sit here and pretend that any of this is okay. “But you made the same decisions an adult would have. No, you outplanned the adults. You thought _circles_ around them. You did not think as a child, and you were not tried as one. You wanted to be in charge of your own fate, and so you were. You live with what you decide, Miss Offee. It’s far too late to pretend you feel remorse for what you did. You’re lucky they didn’t execute you for your crimes.”

“You wish they did.” It isn’t a question — they both know she does.

“Ahsoka didn’t want that,” Riyo says, and those words burn her tongue, but she knows they’re true. “Even after what you did, she cared too much to let you die. _She_ loved _you_ , and Force knows you didn’t deserve any of it. Even _now_ , she’s protecting you.”

Barriss’ brows lift. “How is that?”

“Because if it weren’t for her, I would’ve petitioned for your execution _years_ ago, or struck you down the second you started spewing nonsense about _doing the right thing._ But she wouldn’t want that. She _doesn’t_ want that.” At her own reminder, she breathes deeply, trying to calm herself. Her eyes burn, anger and frustration making her head throb in pain. She wishes she hadn’t come here, even if she had the right motivation. She holds onto that motivation, clutches it to her heart lest she forget. This is for Ahsoka, and there is nothing she wouldn’t do for her.

When she speaks again, she’s quiet and subdued. “You owe Ahsoka Tano your life, Miss Offee, and I hope you never forget that.”

Barriss smiles. It’s a small thing, barely there but genuine. “I don’t see how I can.” She glances towards the guards, then back to her guest. “I don’t suppose you came here to remind me of that, though.”

Riyo wonders how much time has passed since she came here. How much time did they spend at each other’s throats, arguing over things of the past, and things now outside of their control?

Too long. None of this matters. Not right now.

She shakes her head, rising from the chair in one fluid motion. “No. But I got what I came here for anyway.” She nods to the guards, then looks back to Barriss as they come closer. “Thank you for your time, Miss Offee. It was very valuable.”

She slips past them, the door sliding open as she nears it, and stops when she hears her name. “She doesn’t,” Barriss calls to her. Riyo turns to face her, watching as the guards drag her closer. “Ahsoka doesn’t come to visit. She never has. Is that the answer you were looking for?”

Riyo’s brows furrow then smooth back out. “No. I knew she hadn’t. She—” She stops, rewording the thought. It isn’t that Ahsoka can’t handle it. She knows she can. It’s not that. “It isn’t time for that yet.”

Barriss nods slowly, then freezes, as if only just registering Riyo’s words. “...Yet?”

* * *

  **sixty-six.**

Apologies don’t always come easy. Especially not when the person you have to apologize to is your sibling. Leia and Luke have always tried to keep their arguments to a minimum, if only to _avoid_ apologizing.

There’s no avoiding this. No amount of pretending it didn’t happen or awkwardly dancing around it will fix this.

Luke hasn’t talked to his sister in two days, and he isn’t entirely sure he can yet.

Every time he thinks of what she said — _I don’t_ need _your help!_ — his heart breaks again, and he can’t find it in himself to even look at her. He’s done a good job of avoiding her and Han, and even his mom and dad to some extent. He felt slightly better after talking to Papa, but it only does so much.

He can only take so much.

He’s slightly ashamed to say that he hides in his bedroom for the better part of the morning. Usually, Leia trains with Rex and the other guys around this time. But the two of them are pretty much grounded until they fix what happened between them. Their mother had told them in no uncertain terms that until they sorted their mess, they wouldn’t be receiving training or anything from anyone.

Luke still isn’t even sure what he did wrong. And maybe that’s why he’s reluctant to apologize. He didn’t _do anything._ He doesn’t know why Leia snapped, doesn’t know what he did that was so bad, she would _say those things._ He doesn’t think it’s really an apology if he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing _for._

What would he apologize for? Trying to help? Prioritizing his sister over him? Putting his feelings to the side for her happiness?

No. Even if she _does_ hate him right now, he’s never going to apologize for looking out for her.

He’s content to let his day pass in silence. He isn’t going to eat until Leia goes back to her room, and will suffer through an awkward family dinner later on. He can do that. He can definitely—

He feels her before she comes in. It’s this thing they always do when they fight. It’s the equivalent of calling for a ceasefire. A gentle push at his mind; her Force presence placatingly reaching out to his. She retreats from his mind before he can push back, then she does it again. It’s more hesitant and submissive than Leia has _ever_ been, and it’s the only apology Luke needs. He reaches back, pressing against her mind for the briefest of moments, before receding back into his own.

The door opens, and his twin slips in without a word. She shuts the door behind her, giving them some modicum of privacy, before making her way to him. She lingers at the edge of the bed, unsure of herself. As if one small action will really make things worse. Luke rolls his eyes at her; she’s being ridiculous. “Just get in, Leia.”

She freezes, then relaxes as she settles into next to him, her back flat against the bed with miles of space between them. They both stare up at the ceiling, not quite knowing what to do with the distance. Time passes slowly and in total silence. It’s oddly comfortable, and that’s the only true sign that they aren’t fighting anymore. They aren’t talking, but it doesn’t bother them.

His thoughts mix with hers mix with his, until their stream of consciousness is a shared thing. He becomes she becomes he becomes they, and their physical hosts are left behind as they float in the Force.

The mind melding is something they’ve always kept between them. They know, to some degree, that it isn’t totally safe. There’s no way to be sure that their minds will detach on command every time, or that there won’t be any lasting side effects. As far as they know, this isn’t even something that’s been done before. It could have serious consequences, which is why they’ve only done it a few times.

Once, when they were kids, and had no idea what they were doing.

Once, when they were ten, and they’d yelled at each other for three hours, then didn’t talk for another three hours.

Once, when they were thirteen, and just discovering how strong their powers really were.

This will be another time they vividly remember, but never speak of.

Hours pass, sharing thoughts and memories and fears and anxieties, no words being spoken, but everything being said regardless. Their feelings pass through their bound, more honest than they could ever be out loud. Their pride is too great, even when it comes to each other.

The good thing about sharing your life force with someone is that sometimes pride isn’t a problem. And when it is, it doesn’t have to stay that way.

Eventually, they become aware of the time they’ve spent as one. They nudge one another, silently willing themselves apart, until they become she becomes he, and his mind is his own again.

Silence still permeates the air, until Leia says, “Luke, I—”

“I know.” He finally looks at her, for the first time in what feels like years. He smiles at her. “I’m not.”

She’s slow to smile back, scoffing at him before glancing away. “Of course you aren’t. You’re impossible.”

His smile stretches into a bright grin, the kind that she sometimes jokes is too blinding for such a dark house. She doesn’t have to say it — he always hears what she doesn’t say. “I love you, too, Leia.”

* * *

  **sixty-seven.**

She wakes up to the feeling of falling.

It’s a jarring thing that starts somewhere in the pits of her stomach, and doesn’t wait for the rest of her body to follow. It’s that sensation of plummeting, the world falling from beneath her that forces her breath from her lungs and causes her eyes to snap open into the darkness surrounding her.

The next thing she notices is that she _can’t_ breathe.

She sucks in confused, desperate gasps, all training forgotten. She isn’t supposed to panic, she isn’t supposed to panic, she _knows_ she isn’t, but she can’t help it. Where’s Skyguy? No, where is _she?_ She’s confused, and scared, and she can’t _br_ —

“— _ka! Ahsoka, come in!_ ”

Anakin’s voice is a comfort in the midst of everything else. Shaking hands grasp at the space around her, searching for something, something, something to hold onto, just until the fall stops, until the lights come on, _why can’t she see_.

“ _Ahsoka!”_

Anakin sounds just as desperate as she feels. That’s the voice he uses whenever he’s about to do something stupid for someone else’s benefit, and it usually ends with them standing in front of the Jedi Council, trying their best not to look smug or guilty. If she manages to survive this — _if_ — she’s not going to stand in front of that Council for something she had no part in.

Also, she just — she just needs to talk to him. “Master,” she gasps, the syllables getting caught in her throat and coming out stilted and jumbled up. She tries again. “Anakin, I can’t— I can’t breathe, I can’t— _see_.”

His sharp swear fills her ears, and she holds onto the gears in front of her, and _oh._ She’s flying. She’s flying, she’s spiraling, she’s _falling._ “ _Ahsoka, listen to me. You’re panicking. You were hit and it probably knocked out some of your ship’s functions._ ”

She wants to say that yeah, _she got that,_ but she didn’t. She isn’t thinking rationally, doesn’t feel like she can. “Anakin—”

A voice she distantly recognizes as Rex’s cuts in, staticky and almost floating in her consciousness. Nothing seems real or close anymore, all she knows is, “— _falling, General Skywalker!_ ”

Anakin curses again, and Ahsoka echoes the sentiment, though she doesn’t know what’s got him so upset. “ _Ahsoka, you need to calm down._ ” His voice has lost its gentle edge, but she can still hear the fear wedging itself into his throat. “ _If you don’t, your ship is going to crash._ ”

She closes her eyes and tries to listen. She can’t panic; she knows better than that. She’s better than _this._ This has never been a problem before, why is she—why—

“ _Ahsoka!_ ”

She gasps, and the burn of her lungs tells her that it’s been awhile since she last did that. She grips the controls ahead of her tight, and moves on pure reflex. The ship quickly stops its rapid descent, and her body is thrown back at the abrupt change. A wince passes her lips, and she slaps a hand against her side. “Stars,” she mutters, breathing still rugged and irregular, but significantly better.

When she opens her eyes, it’s still dark, but she can almost see. The babble of the boys a distant hum in her ears, she feels around the cockpit, searching for the backup lights. Her fingers, cramped from clutching so tightly onto whatever she’d been holding before, graze over the switches, and she anchors herself to that easy familiarity they bring, and flicks a dulling gray one towards the end, sticking out against the others. The emergency lights fill the cockpit, and her body slumps forward in her seat as she catches her breath.

She’s never been afraid of the dark before. She’s a creature of impulse, a dagger sharpened with training; _she_ is the thing to be feared in the dark.

And still, she can’t remember ever being that scared before.

She lands on the planet below, and grumbles to herself when she sees Anakin and the 501st waiting on her. It’s bad enough that she freaked out in the first place; now, they’ll want her to _talk about it._

Wonderful.

She makes her way to Anakin, already prepared for the angered lecture he loves to give after every mission. At least this time, it wasn’t because she was reckless. Not intentionally, anyway. She didn’t try to disobey orders, or put anyone else in danger. She just—

She doesn’t know.

Anakin’s face is absolutely thunderous. “What was that?” He asks, voice sharp and so angry, she almost gets a sense of deja vu. This yelling session is nothing she hasn’t lived through a hundred times. “I told you to _wait for me,_ Ahsoka! Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

Usually, she’d have a comeback for not listening to him. She doesn’t often take this stuff sitting down. But she doesn’t actually remember him telling her to wait, or— anything before she woke up.

She wonders if she should bring that up now or after he gets done yelling.

“—everyone in danger, trying to save you! Do you even realize what that was like, Ahsoka? Watching you get hit? Watching you _fall?_ ”

 _Oh_ , she thinks, a little lamely. That’s what this is. “A—Master, I didn’t…” She doesn’t even know what to say. She woke up in a panic, and can’t recall anything before that.

Anakin waits for an argument, and seems to deflate when she doesn’t give one, the fight draining out of him in that moment. Behind him, the troops relax, too. “You have to be careful, Snips,” Anakin says, softer, but still admonishing.

“The General’s right, Commander,” Rex agrees, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks stern, _sounds_ stern, but still manages to be so easily comforting. “We would hate to lose you.”

Ahsoka nods, trying for a smile, but coming up empty. A warm hand lands on her shoulder, and she glances to her feet as Anakin steps closer to her. “It’s happens, Snips.” Her eyes snap up to him in surprise, and he looks away. “Rex, check on the locals. If there’s no damage, we’re leaving.”

Rex nods. “C’mon, boys. I want us home before dinner.” Despite the sincerity of his command, there are resounding whoops of agreement and talks of arm wrestles happening in a few hours. It’s silly and domestic and _nice_.

A light poke to her shoulder draws Ahsoka’s attention back to her last remaining companion. “ _Anakin_ ,” she snaps in annoyance, before she can think about it.

He just grins at her, shrugging in that overly innocent and nonchalant way that he always does. “Come on. Better see if your ship needs repairs while we have the time.”

That’s not what this is about. Ahsoka knows her Master too well to think that he honestly sent his troops away so that they could take five minutes to repair Ahsoka’s damaged ship. He still wants to _talk._ And considering this is the guy who gets angry when she mentions sand, and refuses to say anything about Tattooine, it’s not exactly fair. She doesn’t want to talk, and she doesn’t see why she _should._

Still. He walks away and she follows. The same way she always does and always wi—

* * *

  **sixty-eight.**

Rey is every bit her grandfather’s daughter.

She has his anger, his determination, his _darkness._ It sits inside her, patient and tender, biding its time until she’s ready to make use of it. Like the monsters of nighttime myths, bedtime stories crafted to frighten younglings into obedience. In her grandfather’s footsteps, she’s tamed that monster, has made it her weapon, her ally, her _fury._

Rey becomes the monster her father never was, but her grandfather used to be.

It’s something they never wanted for her. Even when they trained her, when he put that blaster in her hands and told her to make peace with it, this was what Rex wanted for her.

She looks predatory, her grandfather’s lightsaber clutched in her grip, the fluorescent blue illuminating the cold darkness stretched out around them. She was never supposed to become this — _they_ were never supposed to become this.

The cold bites at her skin, reddening her cheeks and making stains of tear tracks. She circles Ben — or Kylo Ren; some unrecognizable remake of the boy Rex used to fly around, and carry on his shoulders — with nothing but hatred in her eyes, a small but effective barrier between him and his — her — _their_ family.

“Rey,” her cousin breathes, and it means nothing.

Rex has lived through war. Every day felt impossible, like it would be the end if he so much as misstepped, but he lived. He knows what it looks like when one brews, knows the signs of one ending.

In this moment, something ends and another begins.

He breathes through a mask, and she breathes through her tears. It’s with hatred that she stares at him, and with sadness and envy that he stares back. It came down to a battle of wills, and the Force chose her. The lightsaber chose her. Rex doesn’t know how they ended up here: standing right in front of each other, but walking on different paths, so far apart, there’s no way of knowing if they’ll ever see eye to eye again.

Skywalker and Kenobi might have been able to reconcile, but Rey and Ben are not them. General Skywalker being deceived by the Emperor, after being raised in what was admittedly a horrible environment is not the same as Ben — Kylo Ren leading his — her — _their_ family into a trap.

Kylo Ren is not doing this because he’s been deceived or hurt — and no one is saying that he hasn’t. Whoever leads the Order behind the foggy image of _Snoke_ , they have twisted his mind, the same way the Emperor twisted the General’s. Rex doesn’t need to know everything to know that.

The difference is that Ben knows — _knew_ better. He’d been told, time and time and time and time again of the dangers of the dark side. He’d heard what his grandfather had gone through, what he’d _done_ , how he almost changed everything with one mistake. He _knew_ , and here he was. Making the same mistake they’d all risked their lives to keep Anakin from making.

And maybe it’s a good thing _he_ isn’t here. Rex isn’t sure he, or Senator Amidala, or General Kenobi could handle seeing this — no, _reliving_ this. It might even be worse this time around. This is their _grandson_.

Their grandson, who so easily and guiltlessly led his cousin, his friends, his troops — people who trusted him without question, _always_ — into an ambush, striking them down without thought. The rescued boy, Finn, lies unconscious in the snow, Poe’s jacket thrown over him; the pilot is barely hanging onto consciousness himself, but he remains between Finn and Ben — no, _Kylo_ , a last defense against an enemy neither of them can fight like this.

Rex can hear his brothers around them, hidden by the trees and the snow, fighting against Stormtroopers, raised and trained right under their noses. He doesn’t know how many of them are hurt, how many are alive, but he has to believe—he has to believe, because what _else_ can he do? Rex stays awake, but it’s by the skin of his teeth. Blood loss makes him dizzy, and even he knows that he’s no good in a battle right now. He’s too old to fight like he used to, and he’s too wiped out to even get to his feet.

Rey is the last Jedi standing. She’s the only _one_ standing, after her cousin’s attack.

It’s her and it’s him, and there’s never been so much space between them.

Kylo Ren hesitates, his lightsaber an ominous glowing red that Rex hasn’t seen in _decades_ , before taking his mask off. He regards his cousin with a cautious but almost sad look as he lets it fall to the ground. “It doesn’t have to be like this.” It does. It does, Rex _knows_ it does. He’s seen this story play out before. Those words only mean something if they’re coming from the _right side_ of things, and he’s not on it. “We work best together, you _know this._ ”

“Don’t,” she warns him, voice low and grovely, fists shaking from what can only be fury. She has the same command that Anakin Skywalker has always had; that ability to speak in hushed tones and still shake the world in terror. But she does it better. Where the General is always a threat in some manner, Rey _isn’t._ It’s rare that someone glances at her for the first time and thinks, _she could be a problem._

But his blood runs through her veins, and there isn’t a Skywalker alive who doesn’t embody death to some degree. How could they have forgotten that Leia’s son was no different?

Her grip on her lightsaber tightens, and she steps in front of Poe, almost blocking the two fallen men from view. “Don’t you _dare._ ”

Ben would have flinched away from his cousin’s scorn. He was always strong, and had thicker skin than most. But Rey knew him better than anyone, and she always knew how to hurt him. Kylo only stares back at her.

Maybe, Rex thinks, they were always going to be on different sides. He doesn’t understand the Force — doesn’t think _anyone_ does, actually — but he knows that it doesn’t care much for who shares blood. It doesn’t care that they could have been great allies in a bigger battle. Maybe now, in this moment, they were meant to be against each other, regardless of how much it hurt.

And it does hurt. It _always_ hurts.

Kylo takes a step towards Rey, only to stop in his tracks. She holds her lightsaber towards him, a snarl twisting her lips, and bloodlust coating her gaze. Even from here, Rex knows she’d strike him down without mercy. Kylo knows it, too. He eyes the weapon, shifts his own, but doesn’t come any closer. “I can teach you the ways of the Force. The way Snoke taught me.” He tries to be patient, and it’s obvious. But frustration leaks into his tone, taking away the gentle edge he’s worked so hard to keep.

It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not the tone that’s wrong — it’s his words.

Rey moves, a war cry ripping itself from her throat. The lightsaber is a blur of blue, coming down towards his face with such power, he only barely managed to defend himself, stumbling back from the force. She slices across his chest, but he’s just out of reach. She grasps at his throat with the Force, and throws him back. He doesn’t go far; just stumbles a little, breathless and disoriented.

“The way _Snoke_ taught you?” It’s a growl, a cry, a whimper, but above all, it’s rejection. A rejection of his offer, of his words, of this new person she doesn’t know anymore. “And what about the way your parents taught you? The way your _grandfather_ taught you?”

Of all things, it’s the mention of the General that makes the boy snap. He brings his arm around to cut at her arm, red and blue meeting with a loud buzz. He rips his arm back, and shoves his hand towards her, using the Force to push her back.

Poe watches, horrified, as she flies into a tree. “Rey!” He scrambles to his feet, stumbling to her. She lifts herself to her knees with no shortage of difficulty, and wastes no time in pushing him behind her. His grip around her wrist is loose but meaningful. She glares at Kylo, slowly rising to her feet. Rex almost wonders how, but—no. He knows. Rage and grief, when combined, can bring tremendous strength.

“ _I’m doing this for Grandfather!_ ” Kylo screams at her. He kicks Finn’s prone body, and the boy _flies._ Rex barely manages to get in time to catch him. Kylo advances towards Rey, Force-pushing Poe out of the way without even glancing towards him. He kicks at Rey, but she’s faster. She rolls out of the way, and his foot lands in six inches of snow.

Rey glances to Poe, then Finn, then Rex. He holds her gaze for a moment, takes in the fury and the unbearable sadness he sees there. Then he nods, grip tightening on his blaster. He might not be able to do much else, but he can and will protect this kid.

“You think he would want this,” she asks incredulously, her eyes snapping back to the problem at hand. “After everything they’ve taught us, you truly believe this is what he wants?”

“I’m finishing what he started. He was going to change the galaxy.”

“People were _dying_ , Ben!”

“It was worth it!”

“It’s never worth it,” Rex argues, unable to hold his tongue anymore. He fingers the trigger of his blaster as Kylo finally looks to him. “Their lives mean more than your desire to make your grandfather’s mistakes.”

Kylo storms towards him, and Rex lifts his blaster. He can shoot before the kid can do anything. Jedi might have more powers, but Rex has more experience. “My grandfather made no mistakes! And neither will I.”

Rex nods towards the boy in his arms. “This doesn’t look like a mistake to you?”

Kylo stares down at Finn, looking every bit like a Skywalker scorned. “They never should have taken him. He would have been the perfect Stormtrooper, if they’d all just _let him be._ ”

Poe shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you even _hear_ yourself?” Kylo doesn’t look at him; he only turns his head a fraction to the side. “He was _kidnapped_ and taught to kill. He was a _kid._ And what, that sounds like a perfect childhood to you?” He scoffs. “You’re pathetic.”

“I am—”

There’s a static in the air, and then— “ _Rey?_ ”

Everyone freezes, the air between them all electric. Rey’s jaw clenches, and she lifts her wrist to her mouth, never looking away from Kylo. “Grandfather.”

“ _What’s happening down there? The boys said there was an ambush. Is anyone hurt?_ ”

“Grandfather,” Kylo says hastily, lifting his own wrist. “Grandfather, I—”

“We need an evac,” Rey interrupts, her voice cold. “Finn and Poe are down, and Rex is hurt. I don’t know about the rest of the troops.”

“ _We’ll be right there,_ ” her grandfather reassures her. “ _Is Ben with you?_ ”

There’s a pause that says everything without any words being exchanged, and Rex realizes that whatever is broken here tonight can never be repaired. “No.” Tears make their way down her face, but she holds her head up and keeps her eyes steady. “He isn’t.”

“ _Don’t worry, kiddo. We’ll find him._ ”

Even as the air around them shifts, the feeling of loss and acceptance settling in, no one has the heart to tell him that they won’t find Ben anywhere.

The day Kylo Ren is born, Ben Skywalker-Solo dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe a plot managed to sneak itself in here? i don't know how that happened. this definitely had no plot when i started. then again, it only had eighteen snippets when i started, so... that also reminds me! i'm capping this at one hundred, so the last chapter will be... sixteen, maybe? as always, you guys are free to send in prompts and requests for the remaining snippets! anything that doesn't fit in this story will be posted on tumblr. 
> 
> i'm getting used to writing riyo, and i kind of like my portrayal. she's a good girl, but she's also very much a politician, and she's very firm in her beliefs. a lot of the call it gravity remake (which i have started, yay! it's tentatively called "drowning, cleansing, saving" but that's subject to change between now and publishing) is written from her point of view, and i think it's kind of interesting? i mean, i like it.
> 
> um. hm. as usual, anything that seems important will be brought up again in a later chapter. we also see the beginning of ahsoka's panic attacks here, but no one really knows that's what it is, yet. anakin has an idea, but not completely.
> 
> i want to thank everyone who is still reading this, even legit, like, eight months without anything but empty promises. you guys are amazing, and you deserve so much better. i want to thank everyone who waited patiently, and even those who were... not so patient. special shoutout to my friends (rainyglazed and kcrra/thestartoftime) who talked to me during the unofficial hiatus and encouraged me! they also gave me a lot of inspiration and stuff. i am now on chapter three of the call it gravity remake (with, like, five parts from later chapters already written out), and i also have other works in progress. so, depending on time and circumstances and stuff, there may be an influx of stuff from me coming up... i apologize in advance.
> 
> you guys are amazing and i'm sorry again for the wait. as always, you can yell at me on tumblr @ andrwminycrds. thank you, fam! i missed you!

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe me if i said this entire idea stemmed from me wanting to write the part where everyone was asleep?? that's literally all i wanted from this fic. just for obi-wan to walk in on everyone sleeping and be like, "gosh darnit, anakin, you're all going to freeze to death." and somehow, it expanded into an entire universe of fluff. who knew? 
> 
> also! han's age is tweaked here, so as to make his romance with luke (or leia, whichever you prefer) less creepy.
> 
> thanks for reading!


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